Harry Potter and the Knights in Rusty Armor
by Darren Brimhall
Summary: American Wizards aid Harry Potter in the fight against Lord Voldermort
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One.

Scrimgeour's Day.

Try as he may to change the outcome, Rufus Scrimgeour's day that particular one at least, was marked by more failures than successes. It began with the news of the American Ambassador's spectacular murder in his apartments over looking Piccadilly Circus and the fatal mauling of another American by a Manticore in Central London, both occurring the night before, in spite the best from the Auror's Office and the Ambassador's own group of bodyguards. Bad enough that it was so public, what made it even more worse was that the Muggle PM found himself dragged into the murders by an opposition party eager to rack up even more points for themselves before the next election. For over an hour, his Muggle counterpart did nothing more that scream at him about what he was doing—or the lack of it—when Scrimgeour went to persuade him not to loose faith in the Ministry's ability to handle the current matter.

"Do you have any ideal what pressure I'm under because of all these mysterious killings that are going on? Do you have any concern what's happening to my political backing due to this??" The Muggle Prime Minister screeched. "I'm being ripped to pieces over this!! _Ripped.to.pieces!!_ And if I say a word of what's really going on, I'd find myself laughed right out of government and right into the Madhouse!!"

Scrimgeour stood in the Minister's opulent office, taking the verbal thrashing silently--because the Minister was right. If he said anything that the current problems were being caused by a 'Dark Wizards', Scrimgeour's would be speaking to his replacement—proving the previous ministers' assertions correct. That Scrimgeour really didn't want to do, but there really wasn't any other way around the matter. With all resources committed to finding and stopping the Dark Lord, Scrimgeour couldn't spare a single Obliviators to help the Muggle Prime Minister.

Returning to his office, he received an official request from The American Bureau of Magical Affairs for permission to conduct a joint investigation with the British Ministry of Magic's Auror Office into their Ambassador's death, or at least be allowed to send an agent to help oversee the investigation. Diplomacy between the Bureaus, Ministries, and Offices of each country was a must, and maintaining that level of friendliness necessary to promote goodwill and sport among the various countries of the Wizarding World. But while he was in charge of the Aurors' Office, Scrimgeour's had more than his fill of uppity foreign investigators, especially the American ones, constantly interfering with his Aurors investigations, often in ways that always hampered things to no end. Besides, his people were already deeply involved with the investigation and had no time to baby-sit. This he solved quite easily by sending notice back that the investigation was well underway, and that the Ministry will keep them informed of any breaking news.

That, Scrimgeour's figured, should keep them at arms length for a while.

Then Dennis Prefit, the High Prosecutor of the Ministry, stumbled into his office with twenty-odd crimson scrolls each pertaining to the twenty-odd defendants in the upcoming Dark Lord trials which Scrimgeour's hoped would begin to restore the people's faith in the Ministry. The sacking Fudge and his group of Plodders didn't go far enough and was way too late to stop the damage that Dumbledore had been warning about. The Trials would show that the Ministry was now actively, and aggressively, pursuing the Dark Lord and his followers' right to then end.

But as the usually immaculate Prefit shuffled up to his desk, bleary-eyed and disheveled, dumping the scrolls upon it, Scrimgeour had that horrible feeling well up inside of him.

"Is something wrong, Dennis?" He innocently asked.

Prefit, considerered to be amongst the most calm and level headed legalist around, raised his bloodshot gaze towards his superior looking as if he'd were only one moment away from lunging across the desk to strangle Scrimgeour's with his bare hands. But, instead, grated through clenched teeth, "Yes…There…is a…problem. We…are in absolute danger of making even absolute fools of ourselves…_even bigger than Fudge!!_

"I…my assistants…have spent weeks going through…this." He continued haltingly, motioning towards the scrolls on Scrimgeour's desk, "All there is…all that they can be tried for…is for the fact that they were absolutely foolish, or had the very poor sense to open their mouths around an Auror or some poor panicky witch or wizard…_Nothing more!!!_

"Oh, there are those who were turned in because of someone else's envy, and another who turn themselves in to avoid prosecution for minor offenses…. But not a one of them can ever be considered a supporter or active minion of the Dark Lord—_not a bloody one!!!_ If I were to take them to trial, I'd be sacked faster than Fudge was!!"

Scrimgeour's looked at the scrolls. The arrests were all highly touted by the Ministry, seeking to reclaim the stature it lost through Fudge's botchery. Prefit wasn't the kind who'd slack off responsibility, and would not tolerate such behavior in his office—the Minister knew that from all of the years they worked together. Examining the Investigator's notes, which Prefit also added to the pile, took the blow to his plans silently—but heavily.

_There had to be a legal way to salvage this_, he thought.

And thought quite hard about it…

And came up with a solution quite quickly.

"Dennis." Scrimgeour's quickly pointed out to his beleaguered barrister, "Have them tried for interfering with the Ministry's efforts to combat the Dark Lord Menace!"

Prefit stood, surprised for a good long minute.

Then he blinked, "That's…almost saying that they are supporters…of the Dark Lord."

Scrimgeour's smiled, being quite proud of himself at the moment, "Exactly! "And, if you think about it, that _is_ what the Dark Lord would do; tie up our efforts in finding him by harassing us with fools' bragging—right?"

And a smile slowly formed on Prefit's face.

"Make a formal apology to those who were deliberately harmed by another's lies, while arresting the liars." Scrimgeour's continued. "And make damned certain to prosecute that petty criminal for his interference as well, Dennis—make a good example out of him."

"Her." Dennis corrected.

Scrimgeour's didn't feel like arguing that point because Prefit left the office in such a better mood than he arrived. It would be shameful to spoil it.

That, so far, turned out to be the only real good thing that occurred the whole day.

Scrimgeour's had been trying everything he could to meet with Harry Potter's Muggle relatives, without success. He'd hoped to use them to convince Potter to help the Ministry in these trying times, which could also boaster the Ministry's presence as well.

But the Dursley's never responded.

They were still alive, his spies reported, and did receive the messages--and promptly put them in their trash.

So, Scrimgeour's took it upon himself to visit Vernon Dursley where he worked.

However, Dursley's office had no fireplace, which eliminated use of the Foo Network, and knowing he'd never get past Grunning's front lobby without significant magic use, which would all but cost him dearly. So he apparated directly into Vernon Dursley's office…

Disrupting a meeting between Vernon Dursley and three other managers.

It was fortunate that he arrived near the door, and quickly subdued the others with stupefying spells just as Dursley grabbed the phone off his desk.

"Don't!!" Scrimgeour's growled while pointing his wand at Dursley. "Or I'll leave!"

After a few moments of shock, Dursley pleasantly squeaked, "What's wrong with that?"

"You're going to explain what happened to them, then?" Scrimgeour grinned, motioning to the forms of the three managers lying before his desk.

That had him perfectly; Dursley set the phone down.

Pleased with himself, the Minister of Magic chorally introduced himself to a deflated Vernon Dursley while locking the door and apologized for his abrupt appearance.

"You were sent notices that I wanted to speak with you." Scrimgeour's continued, "Was there some sort of a problem? We know you received them."

The color drained from Dursley's face. He wasn't about to tell the large strange man that he did received such, and promptly tossed them in the garbage. But that didn't matter to Scrimgeour at this point, he was here and the meeting was occurring.

"It's essential that Harry Potter be on our side, for your sake as well as ours." Scrimgeour's stated, "The Dark Lord won't just stop with the Wizarding World once he's finished with it, he'll tear into yours with glee. The unseasonable storms that have been occurring, recent bridge collapses, unusual accidents at your power plants and other manufacturing places."

That last part defiantly hooked Dursley, as Scrimgeour's knew it would since his comfortable livelihood was connected to this business that made drills. Grunnings and other manufactures were already in financial trouble because of the material shortages caused by the constant state of disasters occurring. Should anything happen to it; he and his family would flounder.

"The Dark Lord wouldn't stop at making your existence miserable, Dursley." Scrimgeour's continued. "He and his minions would gladly hunt you, your family, and others down for sport—delighting in the suffering you'd feel."

By his own measure, Scrimgeour's was laying it on quite think. But he had no time to waste, the situation was important. But Dursley was quite scared now, surprising the Minister as to how easy it was.

Perfect time to make the pitch. "We need Potter. With him, the Ministry can defeat the Dark Lord for everyone's sake."

"W-why can't you ask him y-y-yourself?" Dursley squeaked out.

Scrimgeour frowned at Dursley. "Dumbledore. I'm certain you have herd of him now."

Dursley nodded.

"He's set Potter against the Ministry in a stupid ploy for power." Scrimgeour's continued. "Twisting the boy's head around into believing that he alone can defeat the Dark Lord."

Lying was something only done when necessary to achieving ones goals, and Scrimgeour's used that maxim to excuse himself when lying--especially when the Goal was something he vitally had to reach. Dumbledore's interference in the matter only made it worse for everybody concerned, and, of course, Fudge's blundering only made the matter more difficult to solve. But his predecessor did not have the impact the late-Hogworts headmaster had on Potter

And there he came quickly to the point.

"The Boy would be dead before he'd have a chance at pointing his wand. That's why we need your help. You've raised Potter as your own son; you can speak with him better than we can. You, can convince him that it's in his own best interests to join the Ministry and not go it alone against the Dark Lord!"

For a few hope-fueled moments, Scrimgeour's felt he had gotten through to Dursley, for his face began to take on the glow of understanding. But when Dursley spoke, the hope was shattered.

"Raised him like a son?" Dursley spat viciously. "Ever since that little bastard was dumped on my doorstep, he's been anything but a son! He's been a bloody strain on my family, and an embarrassment to boot!!"

And for the next hour, Vernon Dursley did nothing but rage angrily about how miserable his life's been ever since taking Harry Potter in—utterly destroying all of Scrimgeour's preconceived beliefs. And then went on, fueled by a new found bravery, to express his absolute hopes that the Wizarding World would be totally destroyed, obliterated, for nothing less you make him happy.

"The World would be better off without your worthless lot running about!" he unabashedly declared.

And finally, with sadistic glee, Vernon Dursley dropped the most vicious news that he could on Scrimgeour's already shattered beliefs.

"He's gone! Stayed not more than a week before I kicked him to the curb! He's finished with that school, said so himself. So I shoved him and all his ruddy junk out the door!!"

_Finished…?_ Scrimgeour's just stood there stunned. Potter had another year to go, his final year. The Governing Board stated that the School will be open on schedule with a significant increase in security, provided by the Ministry. There was simply no reason for it.

"He was seventeen." Dursley continuing his vicious attack with a sneer. "Old enough to be on his own—or so that Dumbledore said!!"

That was enough. Scrimgeour's left without another word, or with dealing with the stupefied people left behind.

Once back in his office, Scrimgeour's started dispatching orders directly to the Aurors' Office to find and bring back Harry Potter to him for protection. Hang his rights, this was too important to leave him alone—he had to be found before the Dark Lord or any of his minions did. And weither he liked it or not, the Ministry was going to protect him at all costs.

He was well into this when Percy Weasley entered the room. Normally, Arthur's astute son would have knocked before entering the Prime Minister's office. But now everything about the redheaded youth was anxious.

"Prime Minister, "he hesitantly began, "Ambassador Bone, from the United States, is here to speak with you."

Scrimgeour's looked at his Secretary oddly "Who?"

"Ambassador Bone. "Percy repeated. "You have a meeting with him at…" He glanced at the antique black-oak clock by the Prime Minister's desk, and paled.

"Now." He finished.

"Send him away." Scrimgeour's ordered, "I've no time-"

"He wants to talk about You-know-who."

"Tell him things are proceeding well."

"He wants proof."

Scrimgeour's glared at his secretary. As smart and dedicated as he may be, Scrimgeour's considered Percy Weasley to be utterly useless beyond a very narrow range of anything remotely useful.

In the future, Scrimgeour mentally noted to himself, anyone serving him as a Secretary had better do more than dress sharply and be officious around their lesser. He also realized that he couldn't keep the American Ambassador, (or any other representative) at bay for very long. So with an angry wave to Percy, he indicated that he'd see the Ambassador.

Such meetings were never to Scrimgeour's liking. They demanded too much time, and he never mastered the fine art of diplomacy. As an Auror, there was never was really much need for it. But as Prime Minister, the need to maintain proper and cordial relations with their fellows from other countries, especially in these trying times, was a definite must. Irritating, but a must. So when Ambassador Bone strode into his office with his assistant in tow, Scrimgeour's busily formulated a plan to keep the meeting short.

"Minister Scrimgeour's." Bone smiled as he extended a hand towards Scrimgeour's, as his rich baritone voice reverberated off the walls of the office. "A pleasure at last."

Bone was a tall, stocky, cheery African-American with short curly gray mustache and stringy gray hair tied to the back of his head in a bun, wearing elegant gray robes that buttoned at the neck. His ebony eyes swept over Scrimgeour's in an assessing sort of way that put the Minister on guard.

Lying, Scrimgeour's realized, wasn't going to be easy. Glancing over at Bone's deadlocked assistant, dressed in the same gray robes as his master, but with far darker skin, less gentler facial features and muscular with a gold earring set in his right ear—regarding Scrimgeour's in the same assessing manner.

_No, lying wasn't going to be easy_. So Scrimgeour's resigned himself to muddle through the meeting as best he could.

"Yes, yes…"Scrimgeour's replied with his best faked pleasantry. "Though I wish it was under better circumstances."

"Ambassador Andword was a service to the Bureau's Foreign Office." Bone nodded gravely. "He'll be missed."

Scrimgeour's responded with a sad nod of his own. As he did, Bone continued, "And I must inform you that I've been placed in charge of the American portion of the investigation."

_So quickly. _That caught Scrimgeour's by surprise. Normally, such matters were handled by the host country--so according to diplomatic protocol.

"This is quite unusual." Scrimgeour's stammered back, struggling to keep his composure. "The Aurors' Office is handling the matter with utmost priority. Surely your Bureau of Magical Affairs doesn't want to overstep proper procedure in this case."

The Aurors investigating the death were certain that the Dark Lord was involved, but the leads they had followed weren't producing any significant suspects. At least ones who could be linked to the Dark Lord by any length of proof. To have a competing investigation, one by a foreign power no less, had the potential to make matters worse in the case.

It made him burn inside.

"We are aware of the protocols, Minister Scrimgeour's." Bone calmly replied. "As we are fully aware of the Auror's Office's major goal of containing Lord Voldermort…"

Even Scrimgeour's couldn't contain a gasp of fear at the mention of the name, as hardened as he was. Nor could he do anything about the tremor in his voice, or the tone that he spoke to Bone afterward.

"We do not speak _that name_ here, Sir."

"I beg pardon for my gaff, Minister Scrimgeour's." Bone humbly replied, bowing slightly and quite apologetic for his act. "But, the World is…interested in what you are doing about combating---"

Bone paused, seeming searching for the right descriptive. Which Scrimgeour's coolly gave to him, _"The Dark Lord."_

"Ah, yes." Bone vigorously nodded. "Very appropriate."

"And." Scrimgeour's coolly went on, "you may inform the rest of the World that we are more than capable of dealing with this matter that we are currently facing."

"I see." Bone kept nodding, but more slowly. "When do you believe this matter will be fully dealt with?"

_Damn! A trap!! _Scrimgeour's hesitated between speaking and shouting for his temperament was crumbling due to Bone's needling. But then, he was already in a bad position; if he gave a firm date for the Dark Lord's capture, and failed to do so by then, there'd be hell to pay, as the Ministry would look as inept as it's critics so charged. But, if he gave a vague answer, the Ministry would then appear to the World as being slow and inefficiently handling the matter. He didn't want either to occur, nor did he dare reveal too much for pride's sake.

But having no answer was far worse.

And in the turmoil of his mind, Scrimgeour's latched onto the first bit of flotsam that he could reach.

"The apprehension of the Dark Lord and His followers is dependent upon the cooperation of one person." Scrimgeour's officiously stated. "That person is Harry Potter, who, as a mere baby, defeated the Dark Lord sixteen years ago--in a way that is yet understood. But due to the blunderings of the previous Prime Minister and His administration, the Potter wants nothing to do with helping us now."

And Scrimgeour's knew his head was now on the block, because he'd just put it there himself.

"We are doing all that we can to amend those mistakes. And end the reign of the Dark Lord as well. "

But even as he spoke those additional words, Scrimgeour's knew he had just opened himself up to attack.

He watched to see how Bone would react.

The American Ambassador was silently nodding his head.

"That," Scrimgeour's definitely concluded, "is where things stand."

Scrimgeour's was quite happy to see the meeting end shortly afterward. Percy Weasley helped in this matter by again entering without knocking, but this time with a special message about Potter. Bone noted that it was time to leave, and graciously did so Scrimgeour's could attend to the matter at hand without any further interruption from him.

And the news was the best he's received all day; Harry Potter was attending the wedding of Weasley's older brother, Bill, occurring at the Weasley family hone right that minute.

"_Ready the forces!!_" Scrimgeour's yelled. "_We're getting Potter_!!!"

Meanwhile, beyond the realm of the Ministry, moving thru the heavy traffic of Central London, was an exquisitely maintained 1967 Lincoln Continental sedan with chrome that shined like diamonds and a body was so polished it reflected its surroundings with mirror-like perfection. In its spacious rear seat, Bone was now wearing an expensive navy colored three-piece business suit while his attention was on the glass orb in his hand that contained the image of his superior, currently in America, as his assistant, resplendent in a 1940's style white suit with tan tie.

"Scrimgeour's in over his head, and the Ministry of Magic haven't a clue as to either where or how to locate Voldermort." Bone directly spoke to the orb. "He's trying to win Potter over, but considering how badly he's done things so far that boy stands a better chance alone."

The face in the orb was that of a lean man with significant amounts of gray hair and a bushy moustache, which sagged along with his face as he frowned. "Damned British Wizards!" he spat. "Just as overly officious as their mundane bureaucratics!

"Elias, this situation has the potential of spilling over. That cannot be allowed. Even if it means stepping all over Minister Scrimgeour's and his Ministry in the most blatantly rule breaking manner possible. I'm giving you all of the needed leeway to do as you see fit to head this crisis off.

"And don't worry about the Chamber, they'll approve this—especially after reading Andword's last report."

Bone nodded grimly.

"Which you'll find a copy of , and of all his reports on the Voldermort Matter on your desk at the Embassy." The Superior added. "But don't wait until then to start working…And, good luck."

The Supervisor fade from view before Bone could utter a reply.

From his own jacket, Bone's assistant pull out a black address book—handing it to Bone over the back of the seat.

"The Operatives list." He said.

Bone took the book after putting the Orb away, and began looking through it's pages.

"We're also going to need more information on Harry Potter." Bone stated. "He's _The One,_ or so it's believed."

And he paused, wondering if Andword thought the same.

18


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two.

Harry's Day.

They didn't find the pocketknife in his shoe. So Harry gave Hermione's declaration about wizards not having a whole lot of sense a great deal of consideration.

But then, he let himself get tricked by Mundungous Fletcher. And now was bound hand and foot on the musty floor of a darkened room—somewhere.

So common sense was something he was lacking in as well. But, he realized, at least he could cut himself free from his bindings.

It had started out as a clear and very wonderful day in the isolated meadow not too far from the Weasley home. Bill and Fluer's wedding had brought everyone out, and even more people than Harry ever realized. Besides those he knew; all of the Weasley Family, except Percy, whom no one really wanted to talk about, (Charley arrived by broom at the last minute with several of his mates from Romania,), Lee Jordan, Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finniigan, Dean Thomas, Justin Finch-Fletchley, the Creevey Brothers, the Patil Sisters, Madame Maxime and Hagrid with Grawp in protective tow, and a good many others from both the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley. Some he didn't know—but they knew him very well.

It did get a little touchy with Fluer's parents though. Speaking only French in a sea of English speakers put them at odds with all around them. Had it not been for Madame Maxime, along with Hermione's knowledge of French, things would have come to an awful end. But all of that running around wore out Hermione, leaving her frazzled in her seat as the Bride and Groom strode down the isle.

And what a couple they were.

Enchanting in a pure white wedding dress of silk that rippled ever so perfectly across the meadow grass as she walked with head tilted down and face covered by a silken veil, Fleur walked carefully next to her Father to the simple Altar where Bill waited. The gold goblin-made Tiara on her head sparked in the sunlight so marvelously against her flowing white hair, giving her the appearance of a fair-tale Princess preparing to join her Prince for life.

And he was there, wearing the finest Dragonhide boots, pants and vestment that shimmered as well, accompanied with a billowy white shirt and sparking gold belt. They did the best that they could for Bill, the scars from the mauling Greyback had given him were still prominent on his face. The rebuilt lips and nose were passable, and he'd developed a tendency to squint with his right eye. But under the circumstances there was a great deal of relief that he wasn't developing into a Werewolf, though he preferred his meat a little more raw than before.

When they were finally together at the Altar, the only sounds herd was of the wind and the occasional bird singing from the surrounding trees.

The Wedding Wizard was a beefy bearded man in heavy purple robes with white rim around the collar; spoke modestly but not lengthily about the importance of the vows about to be taken on this important day before all of them. Harry, having never attended a wedding before, found himself marking the words the Wizard spoke in his mind. _Virtue, Respect, Responsibility, Sacrifice_; they reached down touching his very being and resonating through his mind.

And when he finished, the Wedding Wizard called first for the one who was giving away his daughter in marriage. Fluer's Father, in his best English, stated most prominently that he was. And when the Wedding Wizard asked for the father of the groom, poor Mr. Weasley nearly choked on his own stammering. But the Wedding Wizard was quite used to nervous parents, and patiently waited as Mr. Weasley got his words in order.

There were some more minor formalities; the presenting of the wedding bands to the Wedding Wizard by his assistant—and asking the question to all as to weither anyone had objections to the union about to take place.

After a minute of silence, the Wedding Wizard took the first wedding band, which he then gave to Bill with instructions to place the band on the middle finger of Fleur's left hand while repeating the vows the Wizard spoke to him. When that was done, the Wedding Wizard repeated the process with Fleur as she placed the second band on the middle finger of Bill's left hand.

When that was done, the Wedding Wizard had one last command—for Bill to lift the veil from Fleur's face and kiss his bride. And once done, the Wizard raised his hands into the air, proclaiming them before the guests to be Man and Wife.

Harry wanted to stay only for the wedding itself, not the reception afterward. He really wanted to get to Godric's Hollow, where the graves of his parents were and the ruins of the cottage they died in—in spite the promises to Ron and Hermione.

However, Mr. Weasley put an end to that plan as soon as Harry arrived at the Burrow by asking for Harry's wand.

"Harry, I'm sorry." He said, "But I must ask you to refrain from going there for the time being."

At that moment, the thought that his friends had betrayed his plans crossed his mind. There wasn't much that would prevent him from just walking out of there, except a well-aimed Stupefy enchantment. He didn't know if Mr. Weasley would do such a thing to him, he was too surprised by the initial request to even wonder.

Mr. Weasley though wasn't the kind to withhold secrets from him, and got right quickly to the point with Harry. "Professor McGonagal had a go at Dumbledore's Pensive. He was quiet regular when adding to it, especially before heading out on…important matters. She'll help you, Harry. She'll even make Slughorn help too."

He would have preferred to go it alone, to avoid the worry over his friends being harmed by Voldermort. Or, be used by the Dark Lord to attack him—as had occurred before. But as it sank in, Harry could see the benefit of the arrangement. At least he'd know what to look for, which Dumbledore didn't find the time to tell him.

There was a catch through, and Mr. Weasley explained that after Harry handed over his wand.

"You will be attending Hogworts for your final year, no excuses." He directly stipulated.

It also meant that he'd haft stay at the Burrow, though an exception was made to visit Fred and George's Joke Shop in Diagon Alley. That's if they were feeling better about themselves. The normally jovial pair had become uncharacteristically quiet and withdrawn ever since hearing (from Ron, no less) that one of their more popular joke items, the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, was used to help in the Death Eater attack upon Hogworts. Even at the wedding, they were very quiet and keeping away from the other guests…

Including Harry.

He tried speaking to them, to let the brothers know that it wasn't really their fault for selling the darkness powder to a Death Eater. They wouldn't have sold it if they knew that the person buying it _was_ a Death Eater. Death Eaters never walked around openly, wearing their affiliation to Voldermort like a giant shiny badge on pridefully puffed out chests for all to see and fear.

But every time Harry came close, or if anyone tried talking with them, they'd quickly excuse themselves and move away.

After several unsuccessful tries, Harry was on the verge of just yelling at them out of frustration. Of course, being famous didn't help matters in his favor one bit. Wedding guests were prone to stop and talk with him when they pleased, and it was a terrible time for him to keep his temper from really exploding. Politely excusing himself from a elderly witch who repeated on how lovely the wedding was for the fifth time to him, Harry went back on the hunt—but couldn't find the Weasley brothers anywhere.

On a hunch, he thought of the Broom Shed.

They weren't hiding in it…

But Mundungous Fletcher was, smoking his pipe.

"Hey Harry! How's ya doin'?" the shabby thief smiled at him.

Harry wasn't in any mood. After hearing of what Fletcher did with not only the furnishing of his Godfather's home, but having the nerve to use the home as a place to store his ill-gotten gains, Harry wanted nothing more to do with the petty criminal than to see him shipped off to Prison—preferably Azkaban. He was already barred from the wedding for fear that he'd somehow try making off with the goblin-gold tiara that Ms. Weasley allowed Fleur to wear at the wedding.

As for what he took out of the house, Sirius would have thrown away anyway. It was just Fletcher's audacity in taking them without asking, and everything else that irritated Harry. How Dumbledore put up with him was beyond amazement.

Harry vowed to take a different tact.

"What do you want?" Harry glared.

"Now, now. Let's not get vicious." Fletcher responded by placing his hands up before him in a gesture of surrender. "You know Sirius was throwing all that valuable stuff away outa sheer spite."

"What'dy want!" Harry now snarled, and Fletcher answered instantly.

"To make up for takin' all that stuff out of your Godfather's House."

Common sense cried out within Harry's head to just drag Fletcher out of the Shed. Not that it would do much more than elevate the entertainment level at the wedding party, but just to see what they'd do to the outcast thief would have been fun enough.

But Dumbledore did trust him… 

He also trusted Snape, with fatal results. But Fletcher was just a petty thief. He never struck anyone has having the capability of causing anyone harm.

"I just want to do you a good turn, Harry." He added sincerely.

"And just how do you intend to do it, Fletcher?" Harry growled back thru strained teeth, while motioning with a free hand to where his wand would be if he had it.

Fletcher saw the movement and decided the worst. _"Horcurx!"_ he quickly sputtered. "Horcrux. I know where to find one, Harry."

Harry stopped moving.

"What?"

"Yes, yes…_a locket_." Fletcher bobbed his head quickly, either from fear or relief Harry couldn't tell. "Old Burks took it before he died. Kept safe in a special place that even Borgin doesn't know of. "

Harry blinked. The only 'Burks' he knew effectively was Borgin and Burks—the shop in Knockturn Alley that dealt with many sinister items. Harry had ended up there once by accident when using the Foo Network…All too familiar.

And arguably far-fetched. Harry had only recently begun to wonder who signed that note 'RAB' placed in the fake Horcrux that he and Dumbledore thought was the real one that night. He had never thought of Burks, not at all.

"Wot you say, Harry?" Fletcher now smiled slyly. "We can be gone and back, and none of them out there would be the wiser."

The voice of common sense in his head faded in the light of his desires. This was his fight. By absolute chance, he was the one chosen to defeat the Dark Lord—weither he had a choice or not.

And alone. He didn't want anyone he cared for being in harms way.

"Alright." Harry agreed. And after the matter of having no wand was sorted out, they were away…

Right into a trap.

Harry had no chance at all to defend himself. As soon as he and Fletcher arrived in some dim storage room, Harry was struck from behind—awaking bound both hand and foot in a musty, dark room. But they didn't find the pocketknife in his shoe. That Harry was thankful for as he worked the knife to free himself, while mentally cursing himself for following Fletcher. He could just here them yelling at him for being so stupid in doing that, how reckless how careless.

Even imagining Dumbledore looking sourly at him…

Harry shook it all off and started looking for a way of escape, worrying can come later. He tried the window, but it had been boarded over ages ago with stout planks that he couldn't begin to remove with his bare hands and pocketknife. That left the door to the room. The pocketknife had an attachment for opening locked doors, this he folded out—

And herd someone coming from the other side. Harry darted to the right just in time to the doors opening, hoping the door would hide him from view of whoever entered…

"_He's Gone!!"_ exploded a gruff voice from the doorway, and soon heavy footfalls danced around the portion of the floor where cut ropes lay. Harry, standing stock still, wished he had his wand. The pocketknife had a sharp blade, three inches long.

_Maybe if I rushed_, Harry though, _I could stand a chance._

But the heavy feet rushed out of the room while their owner still bellowed.

Now or never, he then realized.

Harry dashed out of the room and into a decrepit hallway with no lights except for stubby candles that didn't give off much of a glow. Directly across from him was another door. But after working the lock, it opened into a room that contained a smell so horrible it made Harry stumble back and quickly try a second door.

Now there were more voices, all harsh, coming up the stairs with a bright glow heralding their coming.

The second door opened to a room that didn't smell too bad. Not being particularly fussy, Harry quickly swept into the room closing the door quietly as he could as his captors reached the hallway. Their shouting hid the sound of Harry locking that door, and he also wondered if he could move a chair up to it as well to barricade it.

"_Start looking!!"_ he could hear, muffled through the door. _"The Lord will have our heads if we fail!!"_

_Better yours than mine_, Harry thought, and started picking his way through the room where he hoped a window was—one that wasn't boarded up.

Behind a molded curtain there was a window, jagged broken glass in its frame like vicious teeth and only one board covering the hole. Now, Harry wondered, after the flush of success, would it open?

The door behind him rattled as he worked the window latch. Angry voices, then movement down the hallway to the next door. Harry sighed in relief, the latch came loose and he pushed on the window frame..

_Squeeeeekkkkkk!_

"_Damnit! He was in there!!!"_

Harry scrambled out onto a narrow ledge. Three floors below, a cobblestone street was lit here and there with old-fashioned gas-lamps covering dark buildings with a eerie white glow that made him think of Knockturn Alley. It gave him an ideal of where he was, but not exactly where. The light also enabled him to see that the nearest window for him to climb into was boarded over completely, and already his captors were at the room's door.

Harry glanced down.

_Should I jump?_

The door in the room shattered with a mighty bang that made up Harry's mind quickly enough, since it was better than being killed magically.

He leaped.

For several moments he hung suspended in air, feet down with arms bent at the elbow upward--

And landing upright on the cobblestone street without a single bruise or the feeling of falling, wondering how and why he wasn't lying there dead or in agony, when a bellow of rage from above jarred him from his funk just in time to dodge a purple beam from above.

And Harry ran, down poorly lighted cobblestone streets, narrow rubbish clogged alleyways and through darkened buildings. Hiding when he could behind whatever there was to do so, catching his breath while trying to rest when the shouts of those in pursuit and running feet not his own appeared close to his position. Sometimes, watching from his hiding place, dark robed figures raced by where he was with wands ready to use. Or, they would stop and pause near where he was—seemingly trying to sniff out his sent. Or become curious about a pile of rubbish that was either near where he was or what he was hiding behind, mere moments from discovering him—but only to be called away by others.

But they were multiplying, that was bad. But the one good thing he knew that he definitely knew where he was; a neighborhood that branched off from Knockturn Alley.

All he had to do was to find it, before being found.

A group of his pursuers moved away from the battered bin he was hiding behind. After a few moments, he risked a peek from behind it.

Nothing.

A narrow alley near-by offered a way out. And just reached it when from somewhere a shout _"There he is!!"_ rang through the night.

Harry tucked down his head and ran for all his might.

10


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Jayland Day

_You know, when I think about it, I really could have gone Hollywood._

_I mean seriously, with all that 'New Age' hokey being swallowed up down there (probably due to the smog corroding people's brains there), I, with my abilities, would have been on the A-List for life. _

_The food, the glamour, the parties, the women, my life would have been made in the shade. No more creeping around magiced houses like a ninja to steal rare magical artifacts from whacked out mages for collectors of the rare and unusual._

_But as always, I step back from the fantasy and realize that I'm not really tolerable of those desperately seeking the next 'in-thing' to be apart of so to remain in grace with their peers. Nor am I really keen on having my picture repeatedly taken, or being stalked for it, or having to make time when reality starts threatening those petty little idiots. It would really cramp my style._

_No, I don't need that._

_Besides, I love what I do. The plotting of the heist, the casing of the target, planning when the best time to make the move, and the adrenaline rush of the actual theft—boy whata rush! I wouldn't change that for the entire World!_

_(And besides, there's no tax to pay.)_

_Anyway, right now I'm giddy. The last book is secured, and Tamm (my car) gently closes her trunk while shrinking down to fit in the pocket of my jumpsuit while I dangle over the floor of a personal library from the roof above. _

_Normally, I'd just get into Tamm and blast right out of there. But Granny Witch, who's collection of Necrocons I have just lifted, has the entire building laced up with a magical net so nasty that would instantly capture anyone making such a actively magical attempt to leave without her say so. But passive, non-magical actions, or any non-contactable magical usage, (meaning if Tamm doesn't accidentally 'bump up' against something in here), on the other hand wont set off the snare—neat! So, instead of waking her and most of the neighborhood I just winch myself back up through the skylight and leave after leaving behind a little note suspended on a string where she could find it._

_Ah, London! It's a sight that welcomes and thrills me, especially at night when it's lit up at its vibrant best. Definitely a place for some well-earned rest and relaxation after this particular caper—once I get off of the roof of this building. So down I go along a side wall that forms a alley, leaving the hoist on its tripod frame behind along with the ropes, (I can always find replacements at any hardware store), and slip along the streets quietly until I'm far enough away._

_I pull Tamm from my pocket, grow her back to real size and drive away._

_The beauty of being able to enchant things, (in this case a 1999 Pontiac Grand Am SE Coupe), is the leeway you have in having it do what ever you want it to do—and not do. Besides the oblivious stuff of flying, growing and shrinkage along with near indestructibility, there's a few more things that would put certain Aston Martians' (plus one or two BMW's) to absolute shame._

_But there are some kinks…_

_"Ther'S no An-ser from ASH-b-rY." Tamm informs me through her dashboard radio. It sounds like she flips the tuner up and down the channels—which sounds really freaky. But I've yet to figure out how to get the spell right to give Tamm normal speech._

_"Try Ashbury again every fifteen minutes." I reply. "That hag had several phony—"_

_And a purple flash shot across my path._

If Harry didn't glance back when he did, the stun cast would have hit him directly in the middle of his back. But dodging it put him woefully off balance.

Stumbling with legs that were becoming rubbery with each step, he tried righting himself while moving. But his body was dragging, making him wobble further and further with each step.

He closed his eyes, clenched his teeth, and tried to force himself to continue. The Death Eaters were too close and coming closer. There was nowhere he could hide to gain his strength, and no way they'd ever give him the chance to escape again—

Then legs suddenly gave out.

Harry landed hard against something metal. The next few moments were blank to him, but when his mind started functioning he was quite surprised by what he collided with.

It was a car. _A muggle car._

_In Knockturn Alley?_ The thought threw Harry.

_"There!!"_ shouted an angry voice from behind. _"Kill the—"_

Then Harry was shoved to the ground, followed by a loud, rapid popping sound that sounded all too familiarly like machine-gun fire occurring right over his head.

And someone grabbed him from behind, pulling him off the cobblestones to the car itself.

"_Get in!" _yelled his rescuer. _"The whole neighborhood is starting to wake up!!"_

Harry could see people looking out the windows of the surrounding houses while being stuffed into the dark interior of the car. The door slammed close next to him, and Harry had an especially good look at several long, belt-fed machine-guns, protruding from a fender, firing down towards the alley he stumbled out of moments ago—where now several robed figures lay prone and unmoving on the ground or against the buildings near the mouth of the alley, surrounded by a settling cloud a billowing dust and chunks of stone. Harry saw one robed figure look out from the alley, then a machine-gun blast sent the head back or it's owner to the ground—he couldn't tell which. Then the cars' other door opened, letting in all manner of noise.

In the dim light from the roof lamp, Harry saw the boyish-faced man with short black hair and black clothing slide into the drivers seat, slam the door (which shut the light off) and shout; _"Tamm!! Roll!!"_

Harry was flung back in his seat, and not a moment too soon for hexes and curses of all kinds cross through the empty area where the car had been moments before.

_"Alt-course, now!!"_ The Driver yelled again, and suddenly the windshield looked like it shattered. But the more Harry looked at it, the more the lines appeared to be a map with a blinking white cursor running along one particular line.

Them.

A red line connected with the cursor as a calamity of voices, all types and in all volumes, came from the speakers. "Alt rOutE MAPped. En-A-me ACT-t-ve-I-Ty Great, Pee-pair D-fenCE?"

_"Yes!"_ snapped the driver, as he turned sharply into an alleyway featured as a shortcut on the map causing Harry to bang his head off the passenger side window.

"Sorry." The Driver quickly chimed. "We'll be out of this in just a moment."

Harry looked at him just as they emerged onto a narrow street full of dark robed and masked people, all with Wands out and ready in their hands. There wasn't much of a chance, the car plowed right into the throng sending bodies flying everywhere as Hexes flew wildly around.

_"What?"_ Harry stammered.

"Good, you can speak." The Driver remarked, then sent the car thru a dizzying series of maneuvers that not only got them passed groups of Death Eaters and whatever they tried using to block the car's path.

After sliding passed a rubbish bin, the Driver turned to Harry, "That makes things eas—"

WHAM!!! 

The whole car jerked as the most god-awful wailing poured out of the speakers.

They were sliding right towards a building, out of control.

Harry put his arms out in front of him out of reflex, as the Driver started cursing just as they crashed through numerously different rooms. A stove, a bathtub with gold feet, a bookcase, several small birds in a gilded cage and other things flew past the car in a blur before one more wall had them outside on another cobblestone street.

"_Just what in hell did you do to piss them off!!"_ The Driver suddenly shouted at Harry. _"I mean they're REALLY making an effort here!!"_

Harry didn't have a ready answer to give at the moment. In fact, he was quite shocked from the turn of events to really give one promptly. All knew him from the tell-tail scar on his forehead to the daily spew that passed as news in _The Prophet, _but here was somebody who hadn't yet figured out who he was as well as who was chasing him.

So Harry did the only oblivious thing. He introduced himself.

"I'm Harry Potter!!"

"Jayland…" the Driver began, but became preoccupied with slipping the car past another group of Death Eaters before finishing with, "Day."

Of course, Harry realized that his rescuer was very preoccupied at the moment.

So saying any more on the matter was moot.

"_Hang on!"_ Day yelled and swung the car down another alley just as the walls behind them exploded from the striking of several hexes and curses.

The Alley was blocked by solid stonewall before them, that in moments they would hit.

Harry repaired himself for another rought ride like before, when suddenly everything outside the car started growing bigger and bigger.

Harry then turned to Day, who in the still pale light of the overhead bulb was grinning most triumphantly.

"Should have thought of it sooner." Day remarked ruefully.

As the outside world around them kept growing at monstrous proportions, Harry, gazing astonishedly out the side window, realized what was going on.

"_We're shrinking!"_ He exclaimed.

"Yes. And quite handy too." Day casually replied. "Because it's not so oblivious as flying, which is always expected by the way."

Now they were flying through a canyon of gray stone, pockmarked with numerous scores that would never be seen on the sides of the cobblestones that were else wise taken to be perfectly smooth. Harry simply marveled at the sight.

"You're quite lucky that you happened into me back there, Mr. Potter." Day began, "Like I said not too long ago, those people were really making an effort to _get you. _And not at all hesitant at using lethal force, too."

Harry didn't really know what to say. He wavered between telling a complete stranger everything, or just telling a lie to keep him safe.

But then, would Day realize he was being lied too? He had already stated the oblivious. And no doubt could easily come up with his own reasoning as to what was going on.

Yet, he came and saved him when he could have just drove on—Harry realized, this was no ordinary wizard.

But he couldn't figure him out.

So Harry had no choice.

"Their leader," Harry began, demands only success. I suppose you've heard of him, _Lord Voldermort_."

"Erm-?" Day grunted. Apparently the name was unknown to him, or else a very good actor not to have jumped out of his seat. But what came next from Day's now scowling face was quite surprising to Harry.

"Another in a long line of wantabe dictators—I've seen them all." Day simply dismissed. "From dime-a-dozen crackpots to real demons with a twisted sense of reality."

Day was American.

Harry had never met one before, and a Wizard to boot no less.

Uncle Vernon had met Americans, and always pointedly described them in very derogatory terms. Having left that house for good, Harry could care less about what happened to them now. But Day's ignorance of Voldermort was astonishing. It was as if he didn't care about it at all. Though he did ask where he could drop Harry off at, a place were he was sure to be secure, Harry's opinion of Day was left somewhat diminished.

However, The Leaky Cauldron was closed for the night and no amount of banging could arouse Old Tom to open the door. He did think of Fred and George, their joke shop was just over a way on Diagon Alley. And they would be quite surprised to see him—

_No_, Harry thought, _not the way they acted at the wedding_. Oh, they'd let him stay. But Harry knew it would be a terribly strained affair for all them.

There were others, but Harry couldn't begin to figure out a way of reaching them that didn't rely on an Owl. He had no money for a Bus, Taxi, Underground, or a wand to summon the Knight Bus. And the way he looked, all dirty with clothes torn, the Police would definitely arrest him on the spot for vagrancy.

But he just couldn't bring himself to ask Day, currently watching while leaning against his car smoking a cigarette, for help.

As it turned out, he didn't need to.

"Friends not answering?"

Harry nodded involuntarily.

"I got a nice room at a Five-star Hotel." Day stated. "It'll be no problem."

Harry hesitated.

"And, while we get your clothes mended, " Day added, straightening himself while flipping his cigarette away to the sidewalk. "you can tell me all about this Lord Voldermort."

Harry just stared at him in disbelief.

"He sounds…interesting." Day smiled.

_And boy was he._

_I already knew about the 'Dark Lord' from what Wizarding news sources there are outside of England, as well as what we in the know call the 'Wiz-Net'; fellow countrymen and expatriate, with well-up Wizards and Witches from all over, all hooked up with mundane desktops, laptops, and PDA's just shooting it out in the cyber-chartrooms about whatever you can think of._

_The informational content devoted to Lord Voldermort alone was vast, but largely full of rumor, speculation, and some of the most outright paranoia ever read outside of a Mundane scandal sheet._

_Potter could blow them all away._

_Getting him to talk about it wasn't all that difficult. All I did was play dumb and order a lot of pizza and drink, and Potter very attentively filled in all of the gaps between logic and paranoia quite proficiently by giving me past, present, and a possible future of what was going on. So that by the end of it all, I could clearly see what the ramifications of not stopping Voldermort were. The most basic of this was having ourselves revealed to the outside world, a fear we'd rather not deal with or allow to happen—but easily would happen if Voldermort becomes even bolder than he already is._

_It's not that we can't beat back the vengeful crowds of Mandarins, power tripping Governments, or greedy Corporations—we can._

_**But**__**they'll know we exist.**__ And would most definitely stop at nothing to either control or destroy both us and the power we have._

_Not something I'd like to go to bed with rattling around my head. But Harry somehow did, and went fast to sleep just the same. Me, I dottled about for an hour setting everything I'd just learned from Potter to Wiz-Net's Voldermort chatroom. I'll check the results later because now I needed to plan. Usually, it doesn't take me long to do such—but the Devil's in the refinement of the ideal._

_Ashbury called in the meantime. Things had gotten way too hot, so the books were going to stay in my hands a little while longer. He was scared, and hung up before I could ask which is never a good sign._

_Neither was this; Potter wanted to return to his friends who may or may not want to be too friendly with him after he ditched them in the way that he did. It's not my place to say 'yay' or 'nay' in this case, but I do consider myself to be involved regardless. I'll just ride this horse out as best as I can, starting by sending notice to one Hermione Granger._

_Picking her was clearly oblivious due to her complete lack of connection to The Ministry of Magic, or some other institution beyond Hogworts as the rest of his acquaintances did. Because there was this very great possibility that self-same Ministry was now reaming several of them about Potter's whereabouts. And getting an Owl post about where Potter was during that wouldn't do them, Potter, or me a bit of good._

_I already knew where the Owl Post was in Diagon Alley. Pocketing a spare watch (I carry several with me always) after setting it to time, then setting up a tricky protective ward for Harry's sake (Tamm was still working out the dents in her body), I teleported into the Owl Post's office._

_Shoddy security, and not a whit creative. I shut it down before any alarms can sound, as if I'm going to be there for long. The big gray owl that was sitting in the far corner resents being disturbed from it's sleep, and protests quite loudly but can do nothing more than that as I fix the message to it's leg with the spare watch and send it on it's way from the roof. It goes, cursing me in it's own language. Before leaving, I leave behind a note with several gold coins for services rendered._

_I just hope Ms. Granger doesn't take too much of an offence at receiving that irritated owl._

_Maybe I can make it up to her…_

10


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

While in London

The alarm went off; a throbbingly sharp electronic beep that grew steadily and mercilessly in volume, dragging Harry away from the wedding in the meadow.

Slowly, he raised a hand out from under the covers. _The alarm was somewhere_, his sleep soggy brained managed to reason, somewhere to the left. Harry groped a telephone, hit the table lamp, and then swept his glasses right off the table along with the telephone taking the receiver right off its base.

And still the beeping continued, growing louder and irritating with each beep. He drove his hand blindly upon the bedside table, seeking out the irritant. Now a large glass ashtray became the next thing swept off the table, and the lamp was battered about mercilessly knocking its white crinkled shade askew.

And still the beeping went on…

Finally it became too much. Harry forced himself into s seated position to finally face his electronic tormentor, and squinting from his poor eyesight spotted that low-slung dark box with its glowing red numbers sitting at right along side the bed mere inches from his head. He just looked at it, realizing that he'd been reaching over it the entire time…

And with a snarled oath started pounding on it with his fist until it stopped beeping, and pounded it a few more times for good measure before collapsing back into the bed.

For the few moments, Harry just laid their face down in the pillows drawing closer and closer back to the sunny meadow with every breath…

Until a new sound drew him back.

"Oi Harry, you awake?" Ron wondered.

As he dressed, Ron told him everything that happened at the wedding.

"You gave us all a real scare, Mate. We'd though you'd run off to your parents, as you'd planned on." Ron went on with a slight yawn, "Mum and Dad were right furious, but Professor McGonagal was absolutely vivid. I'd be expecting Howlers from each of them."

That made Harry feel terrible about what he'd done. The Weasley's were the closest he ever had to real parents in his life, and they treated him as if Harry was one of their family. To just run off like he did, without a word, was simply as rude at it could get—especially after all they'd done for him.

And then, adding insult to injury, as Ron explained it, while they were looking for him at the wedding, a whole brigade of Aurors suddenly aspirated all over the meadow with their wands at the ready. And soon after that, Scrimgeour arrived with both Percy and Umbridge, and several more Ministry people in tow.

"They were ready to start hexing people on the spot." Ron tiredly wore on. "Several rounded in on Hagrid, Madame Maxime, and especially Grawp. A few more went for Bill. Dad was furious with the Lead Auror, then Scrimgeour himself arrived and Dad really blew his top—I've never herd him yell that loudly before when he was angry. I don't think he'll be working for the Ministry anymore."

That made Harry pause as he dressed in his repaired clothes. There was no need to guess as to why Scrimgeour arrived; for close to a year now, the Ministry had wanted to use him to gleefully promote all that the Ministry did in its efforts to fight Lord Voldermort—even if it meant 'rubber-stamping' the arrests of innocent people on trumpeted up charges.

He wouldn't do that, not after what they did to him when he and Professor Dumbledore tried to warn them that Voldermort was back and as powerful as ever.

He couldn't live with himself if he did.

"The Ministry feels that you need to be protected," Ron directly told him, "weither or not you want them to."

"I'm…sorry, about that." Harry remorsely replied.

Without his glasses, Ron was only this blur that was badly out of focus standing at the foot of the bed. But near the top, where the face would be, there was a sort of ripple across the pale surface there.

"They were just worried." Ron easily told him. "When they see you, everything will be better."

Harry hoped so.

Ron yawned again.

"It was Fletcher." Harry quietly said. "Found him in the Broom Shed, while looking for Fred and George."

"I wouldn't be bothering them at the moment." Ron remarked, moving around from the foot of the bed to near where Harry was sitting on it. Before Harry, he stopped to pick something from the floor.

"Right now, they're avoiding a lot of people. They're not exactly pleased with themselves over 'assisting' in the Death Eaters attack on Hogworts that night. It took a lot of urging from Mum and Dad, even Bill, just to have them at the wedding"

Ron, a little clearer now, extended his hand toward Harry. Just before his face, the hand stopped with his glasses.

"And as for Fletcher, "Ron continued, "last night, he was found near Diagon Alley with his throat cut."

He paused; _Fletcher dead…_

Harry put on his glasses and looked up at Ron. Worn trainers, faded blue jeans, a white undershirt and his ever-faithful red windbreaker, his friend looked like he hadn't had enough sleep the night before.

"Pretty much cut off his head." Ron finally added. "Leaving him like Hinge-head Nick."

"They'd make an interesting pair of Ghosts." Harry remarked, realizing that they could have very easily found him dead along with Fletcher, he reflected.

Not a very comfortable feeling at all.

"I don't really think they'd let Fletcher come to Hogworts." Ron simply said, eyeing the bed. "Something about thefts that occurred while he was a student there.

Harry nodded, it wouldn't be surprising.

"They also tore apart Borgin & Burks." Ron mentioned, trying not to yawn but not being too successful in the effort, "Nothing but scraps remains of the place. Mind if I sit down?"

Harry let him, and Ron landed with a bounce next to him—looking quite worse for wear.

"Apparently, old Borgin lived there." Ron quietly said, trying to focus with great difficulty. "One floor above, alone. They ripped the place apart…"

Ron held his head with one hand to steady it.

"Percy…" he managed to groan out. "Stupid prat kept us all up all night, trying to get us to tell where you were, with Umbridge helping him."

Then a mischievous grin crossed his quite slacking face. "That Yank you ran into last night was right smart sending that owl to Hermione…After she aspirated back to her parents place, she very much had an accident when that owl he sent surprised her…"

Ron began to snicker, lowly at first, then uncontrollably as he slowly tilted back to a bouncy landing on the bed—where he continued to snicker with eyes closed until it quietly died away.

Then he began to snore.

Harry, at that point was fully dressed, decided to let his friend rest in peaceful quiet.

The Apartment's main room was a very spacious affair that screamed 'expensive' from every rug, piece of furniture, electronic equipment, and tapestry.

Leaving the short corridor that lead to the bedrooms, Harry passed Tamm parked by a bookshelf. All of the dents occurred during the previous night had been worked out of the car's white body, leaving a few scratches that were slowly being removed. He lingered for a moment, getting his first real look at the car Day used. Clearly, the wedge-shaped coupe belonged on a racetrack with its flared fenders and its giant spoiler protruding from the trunk.

But instead of a number, what it had was an illustration of an olive skinned woman, from the shoulders up, with a pointed chin, almond shaped pale-gray eyes, and long dark hair that was bushy and wind-blown--smiling back at him while tickling her snub nose with a vibrant red rose, slightly distorted by a single hood air-scoop. At its front, just below the dual grills that along with slanted headlights gave the car a serpentine appearance, was found in recessed letters the word, "PONTIAC". And along the lower half of its doors, were in chrome letters, "GRAND AM SE."

And seated a little ways away on a couch and adjoining easy chair, with a food tray near-by, were Day and Hermione,

She was wearing gray blouse and long blue skirt with red shoes, and quite nearly had an accident getting off the couch when seeing Harry standing there. On the other hand, Day stayed in the easy chair smiling and waving at Harry, "Yo, Harry! Good to see you out and about. Care for a late breakfast?"

Harry felt embarrassed by the sudden attention. But had little time to dwell on it for Hermione rounded in on him.

"Are you alright?" He demanded.

Harry nodded modestly, "Yea, I'm fine."

"Well good." Hermione's coolly remarked, then bored right into him with an angry glare, "Now, would you care to explain why you ran off?"

_It is true that it takes plenty of guts to stand up to your friends, though the situation generally dictates the necessity of such action._

_In this particular case, Harry, as I perceived, was at serious fault for striking out on his own without as much as a word to his friends and allies. If I hadn't appeared on the scean, Harry would have most likely have been with his parents in Heaven instead of here being reamed by Ms. Granger at this particular time._

_And boy was she tearing him a brand spanking new one._

_Bladder call made me leave the room to tend to that bit of personal business, and to wonder about a few things. So before answering nature's call, I set up the bathroom mirror to see how Harry's doing. Call me a snoop if you like, but I had this feeling that Grainger was quite uncomfortable with my current presence. _

_I wasn't wrong._

"_Harry!" She barked at him while I watched in the mirror, "Do you have any ideal why he was where he was last night?"_

_Harry tried to answer, but she cuts him quick with a fast continuance. "His being 'there' could have been a well planned out means of luring you, Ron and myself into a trap for the Death Eaters to—"_

"_No!" he finally and flatly managed to get out—which put her clearly on the defensive. "He's not one."_

"_And just how do you explain that?" she bitterly shot back._

_Besides becoming angry, the other first thing that he did was point at Tamm. "Tell me, how many Death Eaters have magiced cars at their personal disposal, or have even bothered learning how to drive them?"_

"_Well—"she flustered, but Harry beat her to the punch with a quick verbal jab. "Or use machine-guns?"_

"_Machine-guns??" Now she was really going to let him have it. "That I find utterly preposterous! Just how could any wizard charm such weaponry, let alone waste their time in doing such charming such a thing for any practical reason, Harry?"_

_Well, Tamm took that as an insult and promptly displayed her weaponry for Ms. Granger to see. I couldn't see the expression on Hermione Grainger's face when faced with perhaps more firepower seen in every war-picture ever made suddenly sprout out from all four fenders, along with the scorpion tale weaponry mount from out of the trunk, as she was standing with her back to the perspective of the mirror._

_And that wasn't even scratching the surface of what she really had. Those engorgement charms are just simply to die for._

_But I am certain she was doing it in her undies at the sight. Not even twitching as Harry went on with other points about me; involving where I lived, my taste in clothes, food, and my ability to move around 'muggles' with their very ability._

_Of course, Ms. Granger wasn't that easy to sway. She's a very shrewd little witch, quite resilient to all but the best flim-flam. And no doubt told a few people where she and her boyfriend were heading._

_In that case, I'll just act cool and make no fast moves._

_And be ready for anything._

Elias Bone always made it an important habit of reading newspapers from both the Mundane and Magical worlds—these also included scandal sheets, but those were read always before bed.

What occupied his interest while breakfasting in his personal rooms was the latest from the Daily Prophet.

**Harry Potter Vanishes!**

_**No clues as to where Harry Potter, the 'Chosen One' is.**_

_**Ministry fears the worst.**_

The headline glared with all the rudeness of a gaudy neon sign, but there was no mistaking the gravity of the situation. It was just that the Prophet didn't have much too really say on the matter beyond repeating the same over and over again. After the twelfth repetition, it became too irritating to continue forcing Bone to put the paper down.

His Chief Assistant entered the room ever natty in his white double-breasted suit, with a sizeable stack of white paper computer printout in his right hand which he promptly handed over to Bone.

"The Wiz-Net was on fire last night." He told his superior, "Lupin the Third lit the match."

"Concerning Potter of course." Bone remarked, taking the sheets.

He didn't see his assistant nod, reading the printouts of users' reactions then discussions in the cyber-chartrooms had his full attention.

"The posting's no jape." The Assistant reported. "And now Cassandra's fully certain that Lupin has or knows where Potter is."

"Who was working Lupin?" Bone asked, breakfast no longer holding any interest for him.

"Tan. But the line got cut."

"What?" Exclaimed Bone.

"He's dead." The Assistant hesitantly informed him. "Last night in Central London, near the Zoo. Officials believe that one of their wild animals got loose, but our people have seen the body—they say it was a Manticore. Second attack so far."

"In Central London?" Bone exclaimed. "Who in their right mind would keep such a danger in this City?"

"It's not certain. But his last message to us, Tan reported being stalked and that he'd blew Lupin off for safety's sake. But Lupin was able to get the books…"

Bone allowed himself to relax a little. Lupin was able to get _the Books_. But, where the Manticore came from? That Bone was more concerned about than what the notorious thief had in his possession.

"Alright. Start setting agents after the creature—expert hunters on this, not rank and file. I want it dusted and dissolved before it can do more harm in London. And use the Wiz-Net to track Lupin down _directly_—no message drops." Bone ordered his Assistant. "Unless he's got some serious Mojo on his side, as long as he has those books he's going to have trouble."

Bone pointed at the Prophet before continuing. "Scrimgeour's most likely to burst right now. And if Potter's with Lupin, we'll need to get the boy without him knowing about it. Otherwise, we're all going to take it where it hurts the most—understand."

His Assistant knew that very well.

10


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five.

Embitterness and Reconciliation.

If Bone could see Scrimgeour now, right at that very moment, his assessment of the British Minister would have been way too little—and way too late.

Scrimgeour wasn't bursting; he was exploding—right in Arthur Weasley's face.

_"YOU STUPID INCOMPITANT ASS!! HOW COULD YOU HAVE LET THIS HAPPEN!!"_

Arthur Weasley was a tall, usually mild-mannered and respectful wizard with thinning red hair, glasses, wearing a very odd collection of muggle clothing that normally would have either indicated he had no style sense or dressed in a frightful hurry that morning. All of that would have been hidden by his long robe anyway while at the Ministry, but since he was dragged away from the wedding the day before there was no time to change.

But that indignity was only the beginning of a great many indignities suffered by both his family and himself. And now, he quite plainly had enough.

"_Stupid and Incompetent_ is what you are!" He fired right back into Scrimgeour's face without hesitation, or masking how he felt there and then, "After a single year, all we have to send to the Prosecution Office are—"

_"DON'T YOU CALL ME INCOMPANT, BOY! DON'T YOU DARE!"_ Scrimgeour roared right back while driving a thick finger into Mr. Weasley's chest, _"YOU ARE THE ONE RESPONCIBLE FOR POTTER VANISHING!! DIDN"T YOU EVEN CONSIDER THE DANGER HE WAS IN!?"_

That Mr. Weasley couldn't deny, and often cursed himself repeatedly for not keeping a closer watch over Harry during the Wedding. But there were other matters that Scrimgeour himself would be very ashamed of.

"Are you going to indict Turnpike and those others on those laughable charges?" he firmly snapped back, standing his ground. "Are you still giving the Aurors full powers to arrest anyone on the slimmest of evidence, without properly investigating the charges or those making the charges?"

Scrimgeour's eyes budged, and his face, already red from yelling, became several more shades of crimson in color. It also looked like he swallowed his tongue, from the way that he gurgled-- but Mr. Weasley wasn't interested in looking.

"And you wonder loudly why neither Albus Dumbledore nor Harry wanted to help you." He continued right into the Minister's face. "Considering the amount of abuse they received at the hands of Fudge, Umbridge, and the Ministry during that year, I find it a wonder—"

"Fudge has been dealt with." Scrimgeour rasped hoarsely, finally finding his voice, "And the Ministry has made formal app—"

"Fudge is still on staff, as an _advisor to you __of all things!_" Mr. Weasley exploded. "Umbridge wasn't even touched, and that apology from the Ministry over what she did at Hogwarts would even make Voldermort howl with laughter!!_" _

Oh yes, Mr. Weasley heard himself speak _that name_. But he was too angry and fed up with both the Ministry and Scrimgeour to even care in the remotest sense of the word.

"Instead of doing what nessicarry to fight _him_, all you have done is help him by chasing shadows and imprisoning innocent Wizards and Witches!" He continued, "That's why Dumbledore kept Harry away from you; he knew you'd use him to fool people into believing that everything the Ministry was doing to find and stop Voldermort, no matter how destructive and enslaving it was to the Community, was perfectly fine and alright!!

Scrimgeour stood there, wide-eyed and mouth open in shock.

And then when Mr. Weasley had said his peace, he turned away in disgust from the Minister and made for the door.

"_I'LL HAVE YOU ARRESTED!!" _ Scrimgeour finally exploded as Mr. Weasley reached the door.

"Fine!" Mr. Weasley sarcastically shot back, "I'll be at home, so there shouldn't be any trouble finding me!"

And swept right out of the room, quickly pasting Percy who was standing there with a horrified expression on his face, without any acknowledgment between them.

Mr. Weasley apparated where he usually did in the cluster of old trees near his home, still agitated from the meeting.

_No,_ he considered, _I don't want Molly seeing me like this._

So, instead of trudging up the path to the Burrow, he set out walking in no particular direction deeper into the surrounding woods--while the anger within him burned itself out..

A day before, he was proudly watching his second oldest child taking the most important steps of his life before the Ministry disrupted the wedding in force. Luckily Fluer's parents were aware of the situation with Voldermort and Harry, but even that understanding nearly evaporated when Scrimgeour arrived. Apparently, the current Minister took a very dim view towards foreigners marrying nationals—especially ones victimized by werewolves.

And when he had them taken away for 'safeties sake', it touched off an ugly exchange between the Ministry and the wedding guests that wasn't at all helped by Percy; who, in siding with the Minister on his decision in his most officious manner, elevated the agitation between both sides by citing numerous emergency decrees that gave Scrimgeour to do what he was doing. And then Fred, George, Ron, and Charlie rounded in on Percy, apparently with every intention of beating him to a pulp, and definitely would have if Hagrid hadn't stepped in and dragged them away, Scrimgeour had several Aurors move upon the half-giant, Madame Maxime, and especially Grawp, containing them due to their species 'violent nature'.

It was just a wonder that no one was seriously hurt.

But Percy, his Father dwelled on him. There had been hopes at reconciliation, now even Molly wouldn't mention his name. Now, she had taken to rearranging the family pictures to where Percy was either blocked from view, or removed altogether. He had always been ambitious, taking school very seriously—more seriously than any of the other children in the family did. Even to go as far as to making certain that every exam answer were correct, and perfectly written out in his most neatest handwriting. The endless questions about the Ministry, the eagerly anticipated visits to it and always striving to make the perfect impression to everyone whenever there.

Mr. Weasley was so proud of him when the Ministry took him on…

_What went wrong? _he was left to wonder while leaning against a tree sorting it all out in his mind. And so involved he was on that matter that he never herd Mad-Eye Moody moving up to him from behind, as if the large battle-scarred ex-Auror with one wooden leg and his ever watching magic eye could ever move silently through the brush without the aid of Dampening Spells. Seeing him was another matter, but Mr. Weasley was way too preoccupied to even be aware of his surroundings. That is until Moody literally made him jump by bellowing to him in his loudest voice, _"ARTHUR!!"_

"Oh, hello, Alastor." Mr. Weasley quietly responded, after realizing who it was.

"Half of those I personally know, those still living I might add, would never allow themselves to be surprised like that." Moody admonished. "You should know better!"

_And I should have_, he realized. But Moody waved off his apology while putting his wand away.

"Molly knows your home." He told Mr. Weasley, "But she's worried herself sick that you haven't put in a appearance."

In spite taking a few breaths to calm himself down, there was still a little bitterness in Arthur Weasley's voice when he replied, "I had a go-around with the Minister about yesterday…I don't want her seeing me like this, so I took a walk."

"I know." Moody simply replied, moving up to him with his magical eye whirling vigilantly about in its socket, "I herd. That's the real reason why I came out here in the first place."

Mr. Weasley bitterly nodded while forcing himself to calm down.

"Loosing your temper like that is not good to do, Arthur. Especially with the way things are now." Moody continued. "I understand why it happened. But for Merlin's sake man, you should have been in better control of yourself."

"I'm sacked no matter how I look at it." Mr. Weasley bitterly frowned, "Either for loosing Harry or telling Scrimgeour off just now, I am no longer with the Ministry."

Moody regarded him quietly for a few moments before answering, "Under normal circumstances, I would reckon, yes. But seeing how close you and your family is to Potter, Rufus would be a damned fool to dismiss you from the Ministry."

And Mr. Weasley snorted. Not because he was worried about loosing his job with the Ministry, on the contrary, he found the thought of ever going back to the Ministry difficult to consider after all that had happened—not just in the past two days, but ever since Harry and Dumbledore tried warning them about Voldermort's return.

After yesterday, it was just too incredible to believe that after all of this he'd walk right back into the Ministry like he always had.

No, no more. He'd had enough.

"I could always help the boys with their shop, or help teach Muggle Studies at Hogworts." He mused.

"You could, " Moody responded, "if you live long enough."

Mr. Weasley turned, glancing at the battle-scarred wizard who was regarding him most concernedly.

"Alright, don't go back to the Ministry—at least until you've calmed down and thought it out." Moody told him. "Or at least until Rufus calls you back."

Mr. Weasley nodded, staring at the ground.

"You want to come home?" Moody then asked.

Mr. Weasley considered the answer; no, he was still too angry—anything could set him off, even Molly. And there were other things that begged for his time that he had to work out.

"In a little bit." Mr. Weasley quietly replied. "There's some thinking I want….need to do."

"Alright, I'll tell Molly." Moody nodded, and he aspirated away.

"Arthur's fine, Molly." Moody told Mrs. Weasley the moment after he apparated before her in the living room, causing her to nearly leap out of her chair. "He's a little mad at what happened with Scrimgeour, but otherwise alright."

Molly Weasley seemed suspended between bursting with relief or keeping her composure, but eventually took a more quieter route when displaying her relief.

"Thank you, Alastor." She quietly said to him, then added in a rush, "So much has happened in such a short time, I fear my resilience is failing me."

"Worrying only makes it worse for you, Molly." Professor McGonagal gently told her form the other side of the room. "Please try to calm down."

Tall and slim as Mrs. Weasley was short and portly, Professor McGonagal could easily pass for someone's maternal grandmother in her brown wool traveling clothes that were some fifty years out of date.

"Worry is about all I can do, Minerva." Mrs. Weasley started to cry. "Charley and his friends should have been back in Romania by now, and his co-workers are starting to worry. Bill's in lock-up for however long the Ministry feels he needs to be, leaving poor Fleur utterly out of her mind with worry. And Fred and George have been miserable over the fact that they 'helped' those Death Eaters who attacked Hogworts…that night."

She quickly snatched the handkerchief stored in the front, wiping her eyes with it,

"Ron and Hermione haven't been herd for hours." She continued, "And Ginny hasn't left her room at all today."

Mrs. Weasley took a handkerchief from her kitchen apron, and blew her nose quite loudly.

Professor McGonagal glanced worriedly at Moody, who glanced back in a way that said he really didn't have anything to say that could help at the moment.

"And ." Mrs. Weasley finally added, wiping her nose clean, "how can we be sure that _thing_ really works."

'That thing' was a small, light blue, box sitting on the living room's low table. It looked like a brown bar of soap. Hermione left it behind with simple instructions on how to use it before she headed out with Ron to fetch Harry. It was something not normally found in a Wizarding Families' home.

A Cellular Telephone.

Mrs. Weasley eyed it with reservation at times. At other times gazed hopefully at it, as if it could alter her current world for the better. But all it did was sit there on the table with it's little red light blinking steadily, leaving Mrs. Weasley feeling betrayed by it and angry with herself that she didn't go along with the two teenaged wizards after Harry.

"How can we be sure they weren't lured into a trap?" Mrs. Weasley was now starting to become hysterical, causing both Professor McGonagal and Moody to try calming her down.

And that's when the Cellphone started chiming.

At first, they all stopped looking at the thing with astonished looks on their faces at the phone. Then Mrs. Weasley made a lunge for it that only succeeded in sending the phone flying across the table like wet soap at incredible speed and almost to the floor if McGonagal hadn't stooped quickly to catch it.

"Open it up!!" Mrs. Weasley franticly sputtered to McGonagal as Moody helped her up. "Then…then…_press a button!_"

McGonagal opened the flap on the phone's lower half on the seventh ring, exposing twelve marked white buttons all neatly laid out in rows of three.

Push any button….

She pressed a three.

"_Now hold it up to your ear and speak into the bottom half!"_ Mrs. Weasley shrieked, and from the end closest to her ear, McGonagal could clearly hear Hermione Grainger ask _"What's with all that yelling?"_

"Miss Granger?"

"_Professor McGonagall!!"_ Hermione surprised gasped came clearly from where she was. _"What's happened to Ron's mother—"_

"She's perfectly fine." McGonagall casually replied, not wanting to say that the poor woman was nearly out of her mind with worry. "Now, where are you and is Harry with you?"

"_Yes he is, Professor." _ Hermione answered. _"We're currently at the Belmont Hotel, in Central London—Room number Three-Seven. The name of the Resident is Day, Jayland Day; a Wizard from America who's a bit on the dodgy side. He rescued Harry from several Death Eaters in Olden Town last night."_

McGonagal became concerned. Moving swiftly to Mrs. Weasley and Moody, she continued speaking, "Dodgy, in what way?"

"_Well, he was doing something in Olden Town that he's reluctant to speak about—but everything about him seems to indicate he's criminal, I just don't know in what way."_ Hermione replied.

"But Harry's alright?" McGonagal asked.

Mrs. Weasley appeared to be on the verge on a nervous breakdown. Moody had his hands on her shoulders, holding her up.

"_Yes, he is."_

"Let me speak with him." McGonagal demanded.

There were shuffling sounds, but Hermione's voice could easily be herd telling Harry that he was wanted.

And finally, _"Hello?"_

The relief was instantiations. McGonagal knew it was Harry at the other end and made this fact known to Mrs. Weasley and Moody, and for a moment it looked like Mrs. Weasley was going to faint. But Moody was able to get her to sit down on the near-by couch.

When that was finished, McGonagal got down to business. "You've caused a great deal of people a great deal of worry and grief." She firmly said into the phone. "I'll expect a very good explanation as to why you vanished from us?"

_Quite interesting._

_Mostly those born magical have a terrible time with mundane technology; I certainly remember I did when first encountering it. But there's Ms. Granger sharing her cellphone with Harry, and they're using it like they were born with it._

_But I'm digressing—and Harry doesn't look all that keen while on the phone._

_In fact, he looks like he's getting chewed on really, really good from the other end. Even worse than what Ms. Granger was giving him a few minutes ago._

_During this time, I check the Wiz-Net. No need coming back to the real world just yet_

_But no need to dance for joy either. Ashbury was the one mauled to death last night just a few blocks from here, and from little remained everyone's saying it was a Manticore—though the Mundane Press is saying that it was a wild animal from the local zoo._

_I'd like to see how they pull that off._

_In the meantime, I fish my Browning Hi-Power from the towel drawer and check it's clips—plus the one already in the pistol. A Replenishment Charm keeps them always loaded, even during use, but unfortunately I cannot mix loads in a clip. So I keep the Stun, Tag, Smoke, Explosive, and real bullets in color-coordinated clips. I have my usual, the Stun loads, in the pistol and slip it into my jacket's concealed holster and the other clips into their special holders in the jacket as well. Then I check the Prox-Enchantments on my watch; smooth back my hair, set my PAD on idle before slipping it and the Browning into the jacket._

_And make sure the toilet flushes really loudly._

"He's coming!" Hermione squeaked.

Harry quickly handed the phone back to her, and she in turn handed him a small purse full of muggle coins with a phone number written on a note pad.

"If we get separated, use that money to call that number." Hermione hurried explained to Harry. "It's to the old Cell-phone of mine that I left with Ron's Mother before coming here."

A door closed. Harry jammed the money into his pocket and brought his hand out just as Day stepped into the room adjusting his jacket.

"My, that was a relief to loose." He smiled at them. "So, what do you want to do? Hit the town before going home?"

Harry was agreeable, and wanted to go. But Hermione was hesitant.

"Problem?" Day asked.

"Well," Hermione struggled to get out. "what about Ron?"

Day blinked, wondering.

"But he's in the bedroom, asleep" Harry told her.

To which Hermione exasperatedly glared back, "So, you're just going to leave him behind?"

The Computer performed it's duty under the watchful gaze of it's concerned operators, the fluttering of it's Hardrive light and whirl of it's fans the only indication that it was doing anything. But then, one only had to glance at the ever-shrinking list of addresses on the monitors to really tell.

Sometimes, it would drop by three, sometimes by five, other times it butchered the list by a full fifty addresses—then it would sit for minutes not doing anything before the list would expand reclaiming names and addresses. Such was the nature of Cyber—chatrooms; people always came and went unannounced, and stayed for however long they felt. Like waves on the beach, the list rose and fell for hours on end.

But this wasn't a simple task of monitoring the comings and goings in such places, but a single hunt for one person.

_Lupin the Third_. All they needed was for him to come on, and from there the nessicarry programs would gleam the necessary information from Wiz-Net's userbase files. Far better than the old method of complex magic circles and far more complex spells spun by Oracles who were often hit-and-miss with their results.

Some operators dozed; others drank beverages and potions that kept them awake for the long hours. But unfortunately, they fell victim to the effects of such drinks with repeated trips to the bathroom. And then there were those who brought books or puzzles to work on while giving the monitors the occasional or lengthy glance to see how things were working out. Or simply relax while listening to music from magiced CD and Tape players.

And so the hunt went on, and on…and on.

Then the Computer suddenly chimed…_Lupin was on!_

Suddenly, the operators moved in a flurry of keying in the commands that would launch the Seekers after him. Once done, came the hard part—the waiting. Wiz-Net was well defended against all intrusions from either those of the Magical world, and any from the Mundane who happen to stumble on to it. The Seekers could defeat the Guards, but it would take time…

One minute, two. The longer Lupin stayed, the greater the success…

Then with a rush, the displayed list shrank down to one.

And Bone was contacted shortly afterward.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six.

About In London.

While he was living with them, The Dursley's never at all bothered buying clothing for Harry. All he got were Dudley's clothes, when he outgrew them.

Now, He, Hermione, Ron (sleeping in the rear seat) were going to go shopping for new clothes—at Day's willing expense. If he was going to be going back, Harry knew it wasn't going to be looking as he always did.

But that voice of reason roared up from the back of his mind, warning him to be careful. And now more than ever; for without his Wand he might as well be a Muggle—easy prey for any Death Eater, even Voldermort, to attack. Hermione and Ron had their wands but she was better with spells that he was, though Ron kept fading in and out of sleep. But if it came down to it, Harry rathered they'd stay out of it—especially against Voldermort. Enough people had already died for him, and Harry wanted no more of his friends being harmed or killed over him.

.But Day, Harry couldn't quite figure him out.

Grateful for last nights timely rescue, there were things that were unsettling to think about like what he was doing in Olden Town. Yet, as he listened half-interestedly in the discussion between Hermione and Day over magical theory and practice as they navigated through the thick city traffic, Harry started wondering what Day was. He was earnest, but there was something he always hid—something of character that gave him that certain air of mystery that could present a danger.

Harry couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Are they saying that Wands are becoming useless?" Hermione questioned from the backseat while keeping the still slumbering Ron against the window. "That's ridiculous."

"Well, it's the current hot theory doing the rounds in magical academia." Day explained while eyeing a taxi in the lane next to them with worried apprehension. "It's based on the fact that the talented do, while unknowingly, perform magical feats as children prior to any official training."

The taxi weaved back and forth in it's lane, as it's driver was just barely able to see over the dashboard—as well as keeping his attentions solely to what was happening in front of him and not all around him. And finally drifted a little too close for comfort causing Tamm to blare her horn.

The Driver weaved back without even turning his head to look.

"In Los Angeles, there would have been a freeway shooting." Day glared at the Taxi."

"You could use an Imperius Curse on him." Ron mumbled, which made Hermione slap him across the shoulder.

"I would." Day grumbled, "But I doubt there's even enough brain in his pan for it to work."

Harry mean while stayed quiet, working things out.

He was certain Day wasn't a Death Eater; too many things didn't fit what described a Death Eater—the car, attitude, and numerous dead Death Eaters left behind in their escape. So day could be hunted just as well, and killed the same. He did say he was an adventurer, a _mercenary_, if that was the right word to use.

But, didn't they always do things for money? Harry wondered, wouldn't that make him a criminal—or was that just something from the movies?

There wasn't enough to really go on, or share with Hermione and Ron. And as such, Harry figured to keep those thoughts to himself unless something that proved them was found.

"But without the Wand, what would you do?" Hermione questioned critically. "Wave your hand while saying the cantation?"

"Well, it's suppost to be a mental command." Day answered, leaving the heavy traffic behind with a turn onto a business street.

"Like non-verbal spells?" Hermione suddenly exclaimed in astonishment. "We were learning how to perform those that year in Defense against Dark Arts with Prof…ess…"

Hermione's voice faded as she caught sight of Harry's hard stare from over his shoulder.

_After that, Harry became one very cold person._

_What made it worse was that he stayed that way once we started shopping. _

_Ron offered a pleasant distraction through all of this; just barely awake he was our resident zombie—almost walking into displays, racks, people, and falling over when sitting down._

_Quick action prevented disasters, but I really couldn't take much more of what was starting to become a repetitive comedy routine._

_At least Hermione could deal with him once he was seated on a bench outside the changing rooms. Keeping such a big person sitting upright wasn't a problem for her._

_No, the problem was Harry._

_Apparently the name of the person she was about to say in Tamm was an extreme no-no around Harry, and as punishment, he was giving her the cold cruel shoulder. That was no way to treat a friend. The looks she was giving him every time he stepped out of the changing room were heartbreaking._

_This demanded action. But first, I needed to know something._

_So I quietly slip into the spot next to Ron and ask Hermione quite forwardly, "Seriously, I'd like to know what is going on?"_

_She looks at me like I've just frightened her out of ten years growth._

_"Look," I tell her, keeping my voice low, "the temperature between you and Harry dropped significantly since you tried uttering a name. Now, I'm trying to help out here, especially since last night when I rescued him…"_

_I threw in the pause just to let her think I was finished speaking before hitting her with another wave. "But seriously, I can't be as helpful as I want to be if I have no ideal on where I can tread and where I can't with him. Do you see what I'm getting at?"_

_Hermione wanted to say something to me, something direct. Her face and eyes took on a hardness indicating that. But when she glanced at the changing booths, that hard look was replaced by a concerned one._

_"It's very personal…with him." She quietly began. "Sometimes, I fly off at the mouth without much thought about what others think."_

_Well that's typical of most people. But the personal part, that had me intrigued._

_"I can't go into it now." She then said, "Perhaps later?"_

_And Harry stepped out of the changing booth._

Ministry vehicles, the official ones that is, tended to be Bentley's and Rolls Royce's of a style fashionable some fifty to sixty years ago. The green coloring and mounted flags were additional things that gave them a sense of importance to Muggles not knowing what they really were. But they themselves weren't too unusual to see on a London street, traveling along the roads with the other cars traveling along with them.

Some years back, an imaginative young Auror pointed out the fact that most wizards and witches could easily point out a Ministry vehicle in Muggle traffic just by the color and the flags mounted on it. If an Auror had to travel with Muggles around, he reasoned, wouldn't it be better if it could be done more discreetly and with less chance to reveal themselves to any lawbreakers they were hunting?

Of course, the Great War was on and the Ministry couldn't go around buying automobiles, if there were any around to purchase. But this slowly changed in the Nineteen Sixties when that self-same Auror was able to get his hands on a second-hand Austin that enabled him and his team to approach a group of dark sorcerers undetected before attempting arrest.

Sadly, the inventive Auror was killed and the Austin destroyed by a fireball in the apprehension attempt—but the Sorcerers, those not killed in the fight, were captured to the man. And so in tribute to that inventive Auror, the Ministry began purchasing a small number of vehicles of all types and varying condition every few years, enchanting them for use in 'special situations'.

Scrimgeour knew this, and figured rightly that Harry would know an 'Official' Ministry vehicle by sight from past experience with them. But he wouldn't know about the spacious Jaguar Vanden with its tinted windows and mahogany coloring, reserved especially for the Minister's use. Also, he knew about the special Auror operation in Olden Town that kept close track on those who frequent the shops on Knockturn Alley-- a long running operation that hadn't been considered serious until lately. Especially last night, when an customized American car, obviously enchanted, went blasting through Olden Town streets, and a few buildings, after stopping to retrieve a person who was the object of a very heated chase. The Monitors could only give sketchy details on the vehicle, but it was enough since it would stand out so easily on a street.

And there, outside of a Muggle Shopping Mall, was such a car.

Now, he had to wait—but not very long.

There they were; Harry, Mrs. Granger, and a very worn out looking Ronald Weasley being escorted by a tall young man with neatly short hair in blue jeans and a light leather jacket.

Scrimgeour smiled.

"Percy," He motioned to Ron's estranged older brother next to him in the rear seat while watching the four, "draft a letter of recommendation to the Aurors in Olden Town for their efforts."

Percy began at once on the scroll, pausing only to ask, "Due we attempt apprehension now?"

"No." Scrimgeour lowly growled. "Too many Muggles and not enough Obliviators—we wait."

Percy nodded silently, and went back to his work.

_It took a bit, but Harry managed to fit well enough in Tamm rear seat without the trouble we had with Ron earlier. But then, Harry was more 'awake' than Ron, and his dozing friend was now stretched out fully in the front passenger seat._

_This also gave Hermione the chance to talk to Harry. It was a quickly scheme on my part, figuring that they wouldn't open up if I were anywhere close it was easy to come up with a altered seating arrangement and playing servant by slowly putting the purchased garments in Tamm's trunk—thus giving Hermione and Harry the chance to air their differences without stranger me lurking about._

_But the far end of the trunk is the rear seat, and I ended up listening anyway._

_"Talking about….Snape." I could hear Harry talk in very restrained tones,_

"_Makes me remember…what he did to Dumbledore. I have enough people reminding me of things, especially now."_

_That boy was clearly under pressure. A little push and he'd go 'BOOM!" with bright blazing colors._

_This had to be handled carefully. Very carefully…_

_And my watch gives me a twinge._

_The Prox Charms tell me that there are magical individuals near-by, but where?_

_As I slowly close the trunk, I discreetly glance around. There are a lot of cars and a lot of people walking around minding their own business—nobody stands out, and I can't stand around looking…_

_Now I'm worried._


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Running Fast.

For most of that day, since leaving the Mall, Harry's attitude was weighted down with grim thoughts.

It wasn't all Hermione's fault for mentioning Snape's name; she was just being her insufferable self at the worst possible moment. Typically usual for her, and no cause to be angry with her.

_Snape…_That name was forever connected in his mind with a betrayer, and murderer. Why did Dumbledore stun him, then hide him under a Invisibility Cloak, and faced those Death Eaters alone up in the tower weakened by the potion he was forced to drink to retrieve a fake Horcrux, Harry couldn't begin to understand. He couldn't understand any of it.

Perhaps at some point in time, the answer will occur to him. But there was no mistaking what Snape did. Harry was there, he'd seen it happen. There was no mistaking the coldness, the contempt, on Snape's face as he killed….

"Um, Harry, can you help me with this?"

Ron managed to wake up enough in time for lunch at a fast food restaurant at a very busy city corner. Large hamburgers, large fries and moderate drinks all around, and Ron was having difficulty opening the plastic packets of ketchup—that snapped him out of his thoughts. Hermione was closer, and demonstrated to Ron to first look for the small black line coming down from the corner before tearing the packet open.

Fine, ok, let her, Harry told himself. He didn't want to argue.

But Day didn't interfere either. It looked as if he was preoccupied with something else involving time…

Oh yes, he remembered, he was going back to the Weasley's—most likely after eating. Harry had forgotten about it, shopping for new clothes had put him father and father away from the Dursley's had caused that to occur. Not that it worried him in the slightest, at least for a time he wasn't the 'Chosen One'—but just another unremarkable face on the street or in a car going down the road. He reflected on that as they were leaving, while in the back seat Hermione was explaining to Ron how people lived.

He only half listened, eyes wondering to and fro…and to the passenger door window.

_Percy?_

Harry blinked, moving closer to the mirror.

A lorry rolled in, blocking the view behind them for several frantic moments. But when it passed, it was unmistakably Percy peering at them through a partially rolled down rear window of a Jaguar Sedan parked across the street.

Harry swore and ducked away from the mirror, an action that didn't go unnoticed in the closeness of the car.

"It's Percy!" Harry hoarsely rasped, "He's in a car behind us."

"What!" Exclaimed Ron who then tried turning to look, but was hampered by both his size and the crampness of the car's rear design. Hermione wasn't hampered by anything, and was able to turn—then quickly ducked her head out of sight.

"Harry's right!" she squeaked. "He saw me!"

Harry turned to Day who was grimly adjusting the main rear-view mirror.

"Jaguar Sedan?" he asked.

"Yes." Harry began.

"Let me out!" Ron loudly demanded. "I've got a few things to say to that prat over what he's done to the family!"

_Oh yes, let him out_. Something inside Harry begged, and he started opening the passenger door…

Only to have it push right back and lock securely.

"No bravado." Day growled.

"_I'm not going to bravado him!"_ Ron yelled. _"I'm going to kill that bloody bas—"_

Day spun around in his seat glaring at Ron, looking ready to reach back and kill him at any moment.

_"Now listen!"_ Day angrily hissed, mostly at Ron but also making sure that Hermione and Harry also herd him, "We're going to keep our cool. _We are not going to do anything stupid right out in front of witnesses!_"

Day let that sink in for a few moments before adding, "They've got us made, but hopefully they don't realize we know that. It's possible to get away from them. But, we gotta keep our cool—_right!?_"

Hermione nodded first, but Ron just stared. Finally when Harry nodded, Ron did too—but slowly.

"Ok, "Day breathed, and then focused on Hermione. "Ms Granger, call your friends. We're going to be a little late meeting them."

The he quickly turned back around before she could do anything but look surprised, slipped on the seatbelt, and gave Harry a knowing wink before starting Tamm up.

Somehow, Harry just knew things were going to be alright.

And grinned.

"Are you certain they didn't see you?" Scrimgeour demanded of Percy.

From the moment they left the Restaurant, the Grand Am had been steadily moving ahead of them in the heavy traffic of Muggle vehicles. For Magiced cars, such as the Ministry's, such wouldn't have been an issue. But that Grand Am was bobbing to-and-fro with in the Circle's traffic first towards the rim where the streets were then moving back towards the center at a constantly growing pace, as if they knew they were there.

And Scrimgeour was beginning to realize why; for some idiot reason, his Secretary had to lower the window he was next to down—"For a better look." he claimed. But since then, the behavior of the pursued had changed very drastically.

"Positive, Minister Scrimgeour." Percy assured him. But Percy himself wasn't quite so sure, and to admit that would cause him to suffer the Minister's wrath--because he knew full well that Scrimgeour didn't like mistakes or those who made them. And for all the time and work he'd invested for a career in the Ministry, Percy wasn't about to have it all ruined because he chanced a peek at his younger brother.

Not being so sure himself as to being seen or not, he did the best thing he figured he could do to preserve his position, he lied.

But found it terribly hard to keep calm.

Next to him, Scrimgeour was silent with an angry scowl on his face.

Sometimes, Harry could see the Jaguar in the door mirror, especially when they moved to the outer edge of the traffic circle. Then Day would fake moving to an exit street and dive Tamm right back into the thickest part of traffic.

Then frown at his rear-view mirror.

"Persistent." Day commented.

"But of course they would be." Hermione chastened from behind him. "It's Harry they're after."

"Yes, I know that by now." Day quietly replied, with a bit of anger while glancing between the rear-view and the traffic ahead of him.

"So why can't we just ditch him?" Ron demanded.

Harry wondered as well

"Not as easy as it sounds." Day responded quietly. "I don't want them being able to see us race off, unless they're in a position where they can't chase us."

"They could have also placed a Sigel on the car," Hermione piped in, "letting them follow us anywhere."

Day suddenly became ridged as the realization of what Hermione said occurred to him. And he wasted no time in finding an answer.

"Tamm, are you all right?" He openly asked.

"Aye—MM fee—l—ing fine." Poured from the speakers, but Day wasn't satisfied.

"Were you approached while parked?" he then asked.

"WA—ut CA—inDe of Q—es—TON is Hat?"

"Were you approached by someone magical?" Hermione reiterated.

A few seconds slipped by where the only sounds herd were from the traffic outside, then Tamm spoke, "t—Hat—ss a im-opSs—A—Bility on a Bzz—e Street. You—ll need Tie-mm to Pre-Pair da S—pel, and AYE woo—d need to bee T—uched by the Wa-on-d."

"Well, that's true." Hermione quietly agreed. "Physical contact is necessary for the Sigel…to…work.

Harry was looking back at Hermione and Ron at the time, and both had looks of shocked realization.

"Blimey, "Ron quietly exhaled, "it thinks."

And suddenly an angry rage poured out of the interior speakers," OF CORE-S I T-INK!! WATT D-YOU THA-ink AYE AM, EW-"

Day managed to shut the radio off while managing not to collide with another taxi in the Circle traffic, but did achieve the attention of the drivers around them who blared their horns, and a few colorful curses, at him in objective protest.

"Tamm, you know better!" He yelled at the car. Then back at Ron, he added, "And you should never speak like that to enchanted items. They have feelings you know."

Harry thought back to the enchanted Ford the Weasley's once had, now residing and roaming around somewhere in the Forbidden Forest outside of Hogwarts. It too had feelings that manifested it's displeasure at them after it was driven into the Whalloping Willow, but later rescued Ron, Fang and him from a near fatal encounter with in the Forest later that same Term. And it was amusing to see Ron speaking apologetically at the car's digital radio, but when Harry glanced back in the door's mirror there was the Jaguar behind them-- prominent and notable in traffic.

"You know." Harry told Day, "Constantly going around isn't doing us a bit of good, you may have to get out of this Circle even if they are watching."

Day frowned.

"They maybe bringing in help as well." Harry continued.

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed, "Scrimgeour's not that stupid to use Magic around Muggles."

"Scrimgeour wants me, _me!_" Harry stated to Ron's startled face. "I personally don't think he'll hesitate trying, even with Muggles around!"

Harry had a point; Minister Scrimgeour was under pressure from the frightened magical community, and it wouldn't take much to push him into doing a nasty in public. And if that was him in the Jag, Harry reasoned, he'd most likely at that point.

So what was there to loose?

Apparently Day realized the same, for he suddenly shouted, "Fair enough. Everybody secure yourselves! We're blowing this gig!" And with a sharp twist of the steering wheel sending Tamm racing towards the edge of the Circle, amid the hail of screeching tires and blaring horns and an occasional metallic crunch. Passing startled pedestrians as they bounded over a sidewalk, Harry glanced in the mirror, just in time to see the Jaguar butt a small Japanese car aside to come after them.

_Ok, fine, they know and we know they know_, Harry realized. Now he started wondering how Day was going to elude them. Hermione was helpful with her suggestions and knowledge of London streets, but the nature of magiced cars worked against them; you couldn't elude one, especially with the opposing driver keeping you in sight—like the one driving the Jag.

But Day really wasn't about to do something magical to escape. With people already trying to keep out of their way as they plowed through nearly everything in their path while eluding Police cars when they appeared. Harry knew that he could, but Day's reluctance was there.

But after a fast turn onto a street, while dodging two police cars and a city bus, Harry began noticing something interesting about their pursuer. The Jag's driver was wide and slow with his turns while Day drove Tamm very tight and fast. This constantly made the Jag play catch-up to them when they were going straight.

And this gave Harry an ideal.

"Make a sharp right up at the corner!" he yelled to Day.

"Up there?" Day yelled back, pointing through the windshield.

"Yes!" Harry responded. "And then, as many turns as you can!"

"Harry! That's a one-way street!" Hermione screeched from behind. "We'll head into traffic!"

"But they can't keep up with us if we make a turn!" Harry yelled back. "Any turn for that matter. And it'll give us a chance to escape!"

"It will give us the chance to get killed in a wreck, Harry!" Hermione snapped back.

Next to her, Ron was looking quite green.

"No it wont." Day suddenly added. "We'll just do things a little differently."

When Harry looked at him, Day was grinning.

Percy did his best to remain calm, like Scrimgeour was in the rear seat with a serious expression on his face and wand at the ready since breaking out of the traffic circle. He tried, but he couldn't.

He could tell the difference between a wolf and werewolf, deal with bogarts, fend of vampires and various other vile magical creatures—but not a trained Auror like Scrimgeour was. All his education and training were geared towards Administration, keeping track of records, people, and events well suited for office work along with the occasional essential task that would surely make him look favorable to his superiors. He never figured on finding himself in a dangerous spot like now, so his defensive and attack spells and abilities were simply average—typical of those who'd never figure on being in a dangerous situation.

Being in the backseat of a speeding car that was chasing Harry Potter all over London, however magical, wasn't thrilling for him in any sense of the term.

It was making him sick, quite sick.

If Percy wasn't so afraid to loose his position, he'd loose the lunch he had hours before.

"Watch it!" Scrimgeour barked to the driver. "They're starting to slow down!"

The Driver acknowledged with a nod and began slowly as well, but they were nearly upon the Grand Am as it entered the intersection against the stop light…

Then it suddenly spun completely around to the right as they continued forward into the oncoming traffic, that blared their horns while sliding to a squealing halt just inches from Percy soon after the Grand Am raced past his window before spinning again and racing off down the street. The Ministry driver did his best, the traffic soon formed around them, closing them off from pursuit by irate drivers shouting insults and making insulting gestures at them as they drove past.

But the one sight Percy had was the one that signified the end of his Ministry career; was of Ron smiling face racing past his window making an obscene hand jester at him from with in the Grand Am.

Harry was there, but he just smiled and waved.

Leaving Percy feeling quite sick, because Scrimgeour seen it too.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Not the best Reunion.

_Harroldback's Crossing took longer than planned to reach, the Police were insistent on catching us for disrupting so much of the City's traffic. Well they didn't exactly show good driving techniques, but once out, by way of side roads and various country lanes, the rest of the way was quite smooth and relaxing with no cop or Ministry vehicle in sight._

_But all the way, I had Tamm keep a lookout—just in case._

_Harroldback's was a very obscure place deep within the last of England's forests to the northwest of London, and accessible by a way that was more Goat-path than road due to how it twisted between the tightly spaced trees. The actual crossing itself was partially hidden by thick bushes on either side of the way, bushes in which, according to Tamm, three people were hiding in._

_"Just keep calm." I told her, slowing to a stop._

_But when they emerged from the bushes, the weaponry popped out of the fenders—I gotta talk to Skywise about this…_

_One of the three was female, advanced in years and wearing a tweed traveling suit with a wide brimmed hat who looked quite alarmed at Tamm's display. Where on the other hand, the tall robed man with thinning red hair and glasses on the right seemed quite amazed by it. But the third gent, who looked like someone Freddy Kruger used as a scratching post, gave me the willies._

_All had wands at the ready, which prompted me to ask Harry, "You know these people, right?"_

_Harry nodded slowly, and smiled sickly. Then tried opening the door on his side, but Tamm wouldn't let him out until I could insure her that they weren't going to cause any harm. But the fender weapons were still displayed._

_"Professor." Harry addressed the woman, who's response was anything but cordial._

_"You gave us all quite a lot of grief, Mr. Potter." She sternly shot back while putting her wand away. "I don't suppose you have a suitable explanation as to why?"_

_Oh man, I didn't want to be in Harry's shoes at that moment. While granted, he was deserving of the scolding, still I pitied him—and really couldn't watch, so I help his friends out of the back seat._

_And just then, "Fletcher! Fletcher tricked you into following him! I wouldn't have believed it if I herd it said by someone else! I thought you were smart enough by now to avoid such reckless behavior!!"_

_Even as they came out of the back seat, Ron and Hermione wanted to shy away from Professor McGonagall's onslaught._

_"There was a reason why your wand was taken away, Mister Potter!! And still you persist!...I don't know how Albus put up with this behavior of yours, but I certainly will not!...Moody will take you to a place where you'll be safe for the time being, and when I return, we'll continue our discussion—in private!"_

_Oh she was mad, and mad people, in the anger sense, aren't too welcoming to strangers suddenly butting in. But, there was no other way to do what I needed to do for Harry._

_"Um…excuse me?" I announced myself, standing up from behind Tamm. The look I got from McGonagall would have blasted me ass-over-teakettle across the countryside, but I stood up to it in my best friendly manner._

_"Harry has some things in the trunk. Could I get them out, and give them to him?"_

_McGonagall wanted to leave the area there and then. Both she and 'Scareface' (I'm assuming that's Moody) gazed at me coolly before she gave me a very curt nod of permission—but I had to work fast. As I turned, I snatched a small note pad from the driver's side door nitch and quickly scribbled out a message with my pen while Hermione and Ron watched wondering._

_Tamm opened her trunk, and I pitched the note pad into one of Harry's clothing bags._

_"Just make sure he knows about it." I whisper to his friends. "It explains what to do to contact me."_

_Ron was agreeing while Hermione was hesitant, she still didn't trust me fully enough. But Ron nudged her into compliance as I brought the bags out of the trunk and briskly brought the bags over to Harry while under McGonagall's sharp eyes._

_"Well, Harry, it was quite eventful." I smiled to him while handing over his stuff, "Perhaps we'll get together sometime soon."_

_Harry wanted that to be true, but McGonagall cut right in coldly, "I would assume not, Mister Day."_

_I glanced up right into her wilting glare, "Mister Potter has much to atone fore."_

_…And stood up to it. "The World knows what going on over here." I told her. "It's only a matter of time."_

_"Indeed it is, Mister Day." She replied, a little softer in tone now, "I'm glad you understand the current situation."_

_I nodded, smiling. There was an opening._

_"But considering what you did while in London," Moody unexpectantly spoke up, "I would expect Rufus Scrimgeour will not rest until you are either before him in shackles or dead."_

_"And it's the same with Mr. Potter." McGonagall gravely added, "The current Minister wont stop until he has him under his control." Then to Moody, said "You'd better get going."_

_He nodded and reached for Harry, who then turned to me and smiled "Thank you for everything, Mr. Day."_

_"Just call my name if you need me." I nodded to him, leaving him with a puzzled look oh his face when he and Moody ported away._

_Then Professor McGonagall rounded in on me, "You're very confident about that, aren't you?"_

_"If I wasn't, I wouldn't have said it."_

_"Quite." She regarded me coolly as the balding man stepped to her side, "I don't suppose you care to explain how you came to rescue him in Olden Town?"_

_"Business." I reply._

_Hermione frowned._

_Bad sign._

_McGonagall just nods. "Evasiveness wont get you anywhere with me, Mr. Day. And until more is known about you, I prefer to keep you at a distance—you understand of course."_

_I did. It was a bummer, but seriously I didn't think they'd want to trust another thief right at the moment._

_"But don't worry." She added, "We'll keep you in mind."_

_And with a flick of her wand, she ported away—along with the balding man and Harry's friends._

_And so it goes._

Harry didn't have much of a chance to say good-bye to day before Moody aspirated him away to the all too familiar back lawn of the Weasley's, and then the indignities didn't end.

"Let me see that bag." Moody roughly directed, motioning to the one Harry had in his right hand. "That person slipped something into it."

Of course with his magical eye, it would be hard to hide anything from Moody, so fighting back the anger Harry handed over the clothing bag in question. Because even he was wondering what it was Moody was so interested in.

That was soon answered, for Moody pulled out a simple small note pad from the bag and examined it with both his eyes while turning it in his mangled right hand for several minutes.

"_Say my name_." Moody read from the first sheet. He flipped through the rest of them, but found nothing on the other sheets.

Harry just watched, keeping himself in check.

Then Moody's eye swiveled around. "We're back, Molly!" He called out, and the back door of the home was unbolted and flew open. Mrs. Weasley was standing in the doorway, the light of the kitchen casting her mostly in shadow but there was no mistaking the apron she was clutching that it was her.

"Harry!!" she gasped with both shock and relief. "It's you, really you."

"Hello, Mrs. Weasley." Harry replied embarrassedly, and she rushed forward.

It was like Dudley crashing into him. Thought now taller by a full head, Mrs. Weasley collided with Harry in a head-long rush that had Harry fighting franticly for his balance while wheeling backwards. All he needed to have happen was to trip over something hidden in the tall grass and either break his neck or bash his head in on something, an irony that didn't escape him at the moment since he'd been experiencing them a lot lately. Moody was taken quite by surprise by the vent, but Mrs. Weasley was too busy hugging Harry--grateful that he was alive.

"We were all so worried about you." Cried Mrs. Weasley, "Feared _he'd_ came and took you away, right out from under our noses."

"The boy's fine, Molly." Moody replied from behind, when she paused to wipe her eyes and blow her nose. But she continued on…

"Then the Ministry came and started arresting people. Then Fletcher was found murdered, and You, Ron and Hermione were running around with that criminal in London with the Ministry chasing after you…Why we feared the worse!

"But thank goodness you're safe!"

And again sobbing, she embraced a now bewildered Harry.

The others hadn't arrived yet, and Moody was becoming worried.

Still though, Mrs. Weasley was happy that Harry was safe and insistently fixed him a meal before sending him up to Ron's room to sleep.

Moody guided him up the stairs with a powerful hand gripping his shoulder.

"Luck is certainly with you, Boy. That's all I haft to say about it. "Moody growled into his ear. "There's a reason _why_ we're protecting you—_do you understand Boy?"_

While he knew the reasons why, still it annoyed Harry to no end to be constantly reminded of those facts. It _was_ going to be Him going up against Voldermort, not the others—_Him!_ That he already accepted as inescapable. What bothered him the most was that he was unable to locate the Horucrux's vital to Voldermort's survival, without his self-proclaimed protectors or the Ministry for that matter interfering.

Harry felt like he was in a box, a very tight box, one he'd love to escape from but not very sure how to do it.

"Yes." Harry grated back.

Moody quickly spun him about, jamming his angry scared face just inches from Harry's.

"Don't you keep such an attitude, Boy, don't you dare!" Moody angrily rasped back. "Or you'll be dead long before you know it! Many are risking their lives, and many have died to save yours—don't you dare become ungrateful for it! _Don't at all!_"

Moody pretty much pushed him the rest of the way to Ron's room, grumbling angrily before shoving him in.

"Don't think about running off like you did, Boy" warned Moody, "When the Professor returns, _we'll have a good long talk about it!_"

Then he pitched the clothing bag he took from Harry into the room and closed the door. But before leaving he did something to the doors lock that made it glow green for a time, even after Harry had herd him shuffle away.

He wanted to test the door, but considered better and dejectedly sat down on Ron's bed instead. The room was no better than it was when Harry first visited it now long ago, the clothes hear and there, the piled comic books and text books on the trunk, open candy boxes and of course the Quidditch posters now practically covering every space of wall imaginable.

Harry just sat and looked at everything. He wasn't cheered by being here as before, too much had happed to take the charm away.

So he figured he'd start going through the clothing bags, taking the items out and organizing them. It gave him something to do before the others came back, a thought that didn't please him at all.

And right off, he found the notepad.

There wasn't anything on it now. Moody no doubt had taken the page Day had written his message on. Probably wadded up in his coat pocket, Harry figured as he held the pad looking down on it as if it once offered him hope.

He was just about to toss it onto the nightstand when shadows quickly formed and vanished across the surface of the top sheet.

He paused, looked at it again while carefully turning the pad in his hands.

The shadows flickered again across the top sheet.

There wasn't a mystery to it, Harry knew that if one pressed down hard enough while writing an impression would be left of some of the sheets underneath the one being written on. Day apparently did that, possibly anticipating the original message being kept from Harry in some way.

But what did the message say?

In the light where he was, Harry couldn't make out the impressions clearly enough. The small lamp on the nightstand offered help, and Harry shifted the pad to and fro almost right up against the light itself squinting while focusing on that spot…

_Say my Name…_

Day had said that to him before Moody aspirated him away, and Moody said it when he read that first sheet.

_So why would he have taken the first sheet? _Harry wondered as he held the notepad, which was three times longer than it was wide and fit easily in his hand. _Is this a Portkey?_

If it was, it had a very unusual way of being activated. But the sound of someone franticly running up the stairs snapped his thoughts and Harry quickly stuffed the notepad into his jeans' pocket just as whoever it was reached the bedroom door—and was stymied by it.

_"Bloody Hell!!"_ Harry could hear Ron rage from the other side, _"Who jammed my door!"_

It sounded like his mother was responding, but the voice was too far away behind too much house for Harry to even barely hear. But the noise made by Ron fighting and cursing his bedroom door pretty much made any attempt to hear anything else a very moot point for several minutes.

_"Harry! Get away from the bloody door!!"_

Ron was just below average with his spells ability, but there was no mistaking by Harry what his friend was about to do—and just made it to the far side of the bed before the door exploded into pieces with a sharp crack.

"Harry!! _Harry, where are you!_" Ron yelled into the room. As Harry peeked out from behind the bed, he saw Ron's face change from franticly worried to just frantic.

"Something's happened to Hermione's parents…Something real bad."

"We're not sure." Ron hurriedly explained while following Harry down the stairs, "After leaving Professor McGonagall at Hogwarts, which is where you'll be heading to tomorrow, Dad and I went to visit her parents and ran into a lot of Pleese men going though the rooms and there was blood everywhere. Dad got us back here right quick, then went back . Hermione is with Mom."

And she was, as Harry did see when he reached the bottom of the stairs.

Hermione wasn't frantic or in hysterics, shedding tears as Harry expected, while sitting on the living room sofa with Mrs. Weasley hovering near-by with a glass of water.

She was just sitting there, lost in such a manner of eerie disbelief that she didn't move or acknowledge Harry when he appeared, called her name, or when he gently shook her shoulder. Her parents had been Dentists in London, and neither had any magical ability with in them like their daughter did.

But Hermione, by the sheer virtue of her achievements, as well as her association with Harry, had made his enemies hers as well.

And that made him fear the worse.

"It's almost…"Ron hesitantly began, "as if…a Dementor kissed her."

Harry glanced silently at Mrs. Weasley, who could only sadly shake her head.

And the Beast with in him, long held back, roared forth in frustration and rage demanding action at once.

"I'm going back to London." Harry stated with growing rage.

"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked, But Harry couldn't be stopped.

"Look, I've had enough of being a good little wizard! I'm suppost to battle Voldermort, not stand and watch him hurt my friends! I'm going back to London, find that bastard, and end this once and for all!"

Harry ignored Mrs. Weasley's shocked gasp, and spun around to Ron with his hand out.

"Your wand!" He demanded.

Ron started to, but then hesitated. Harry was startled and bewildered by his friend's action.

"_Ronald Weasley_! _You will not give your wand to Harry!"_ Mrs. Weasley directly commanded her son. _"You will hand it to me, now!_ _Then the same with Hermione's."_

She stood there with her hand expectantly outstretched towards her son, who with a reluctant glance towards Harry slowly drew out his wand and handed it to his Mother—then he did the same with Hermione's.

_"Now take her into the kitchen, and wait for me there!"_ she then barked.

Ron scooped Hermione off the couch carefully in his arms in a bridal carry. She was only vaguely aware of what was occurring as Ron slowly moved past Harry, and finally into the kitchen. Then swiftly, Mrs. Weasley pointed her wand at the front door causing a metallic clicking sound to come from it's lock.

Then she turned to Harry. "Please understand, "she passively began, "we're not doing this to hurt you but to protect you."

And Harry was exactly thinking that, though the rage was slowed by the shock he received.

"But Voldermort—" he began, and stopped when Mrs. Weasley gasped in fear.

"Don't ever mention that name—_not at all!"_ she pleaded. "I know what he's doing Harry, I know all too well because he did it the last time. He wants you to go after him now, because you're not ready to face off against him—you're not prepared, which is what he wants so he can strike you down!"

Mrs. Weasley was on the verge of tears at that point. Seeing her that way, made Harry's anger start melting away.

"When the time comes…When you are ready…None of us will stop you…You have my word on that. Now, back up stairs with you."

As he turned towards the stairs, the anger flickered with in him. But this time, it was contained.

"As soon as Professor McGonagall and Moody return, they'll take you away to somewhere safe." Mrs. Weasley added, but Harry already knew as he started back up the stairs.

_There was no place safer than Hogwarts…_

And he started up the stairs.

_BLAM!!_

The front door blew open, and the room quickly filled with a thick white smoke that Mrs. Weasley didn't even scream, or so it appeared to Harry. But the ringing in his ears and the difficulty he was having moving occupied him greatly.

In fact, he didn't know if he was still standing or lying on the ground. He couldn't feel his body at all.

But he could see figures approaching. Tall, straight, sinister, with round heads that shimmered in the light from their wands as they approached him.

In one fleeting moment, Harry remembered the notepad in his pocket…

Then one of the figures pointed its wand at him, bathing him in a red light..

That faded to black when he became unconscious.

12


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine.

Unexpected Twists and Turns.

_I don't care much for surprises; they can be very ruinous for one of my profession, so I plan things down to very minute detail._

_This is especially true to finding the perfect hideaway. A false name, with disguise, if needed, and credible documentation and automatic billing to any number of bank accounts—which makes it very easy to move around. Also, it's nice to have a second, third, fourth, or more hideaways handy in the event that your main one has been found out by people you have no intention of ever meeting—like the Police, or whatever passes for it here in merry old England._

_After the fun in London, I doubt very strongly that I'd be welcomed back there for a good long time—at least with Tamm. I hope no one saw me driving. But then it was plainly oblivious, either the Ministry of Magic has its spies and informants out in force or they've managed to place a Sigel on Harry without his knowing it (which is very possible), because I cannot see any other way they made us back in London. The WizNet is something they'll never use, for now anyway, seeing how reluctant they are to embrace change…_

_But the car they used was the latest from Jaguar. So I may not be so certain about the WizNet not being used by them._

_Anyway, I have a nice little unassuming house on the outskirts of London that I use as a hideaway, just far enough away from the suburbia so the neighbors never wonder who keeps the place. After leaving Tamm in the garage to rest and repair herself, I headed to the kitchen with a mad desire for a large bowl of Macaroni and Cheese with Ham. It was a terribly long day, and that burger didn't hit the spot at all._

_Then my cellphone started vibrating. Harry must have found the notepad._

_But when I answered, all I got was, "Lupin the Third, I'm Elias Bone, the new American Ambassador to the British Ministry of Magic."_

_He sounded regal enough, with plenty of poise, like an actual politician. And damn, he did have my number. _

_Maybe I could teleport back to Tamm and beat it... _

_But if he's done his homework, it would be a damn short trip._

"_We had…mutual acquaintances." Bone casually goes on, "The late Mr. Ashbury and Swiss Account Number 457136-31774-9207-5567E3."_

_Now that was special information. It was the account I always went through whenever I find myself doing jobs for the American Government, Ashbury wouldn't have known it…_

_But his employer would._

"_Good evening, Mr. Bone, what may I help you with?" I chime into the phone._

_"Ah, yes…Money always talks." Bone responds in a knowing fashion, before getting down to business. "I'm here to discuss a matter of significant importance that currently faces the Global Magical Community." Bone then said, becoming serious._

_"Really? That's nice."_

_"Yes," Bone nodded, "your experiences with a Mr. Harry Potter, both today and last night, must have given you a good ideal of what this seriousness is we're all facing."_

_"We just…ran into each other."_

_"Of course." Bone nodded again. "Right after relieving one Madame Rich of a very illegal, if not utterly deadly, assortment of Necronomicons at the bequest of my predecessor, Ambassador Andward.Mr. Ashbury was the go-between, their loss was extremely disquieting."_

"_So, we're going to go a different route?"_

"_The matter of the Books can be tended to later." Bone firmly said. "There are more pressing matters to attend to."_

_And laid it all out for me as directly as possible. Apparently, Voldermort's appearance has the entire Global Magical Community cringing in fear of another 'Dark Times' like those of twenty years ago, when the surge of Dark Magic grew too incredible proportions worldwide. I remembered those times, people were too afraid to even step outside their door for fear of becoming a victim of a Sorcerer—and criminals made huge sums of money playing on those fears…_

_And of course, there were a few Sorcerers around, taking advantage of the situation._

_There was no mistaking the fear of another Dark Time occurring. The people were scared, and their leaders were worried…But I had one question to ask._

"_So where do I fit in all of this?"_

_Bone paused, "Are you aware of the dangers involved in this matter." He asked_

"_I ran into Potter last night." I replied._

"_There's no need for sarcasm." Bone gently replied. "What I need is an agent that can protect Potter, or at least be certain of his safety—I cannot trust the Ministry on this matter."_

_Simple enough and fitting in perfectly with what Harry said about the Ministry being more concerned about maintaining the appearance of doing something when it wasn't._

"_And secondly, I need to be certain that Potter is, as claimed, the Chosen One who'll defeat Voldermort."_

_Uncertainty and mistrust of how the locals were handling things that added to the big picture even more._

"_I'm afraid that the British Ministry has been in a state of self-contentment, that it's utterly incapable of handling this matter." Bone finished._

_And we're suppost to be close allies with them. That could become very messy, very quickly._

"_They're not going to take too kindly to us butting in." I told Bone. "Even Harry's friends blew me off when I offered to help."_

"_That has been considered. "Bone gently replied, "And I'll speak to them personally about it."_

_Bone and McGonagall going at it—that would make it worth it along to sign on._

_He left after the simple formalities of pay and who'd my new contact would be…_

_And sweated the fact that I was now on a leash._

_Aw well, nothing new in that regard. I've been doing jobs for people long enough to always cover my ass. So if they came to bite me there all they'd sink their teeth into was air—and set my self to making a big bowl of M-and-C._

_Minutes later the cooking's done and I'm ready to dive into that mixture of golden macaroni and ham…_

_But pause to check my cell phone._

Everyone was there in the Meadow outside of the Weasley's home on that bright and glorious day, dressed in their best and smiling happily as Harry, standing before the alter waited the arrival of his bride, Ginny— now being escorted him by Her Father. The dress she wore was a perfect white whose surface rippled like water as she moved, and in her hands, and woven into her long red hair, were meadow flowers that had been freshly picked that very day.

But they seemed to move slower and slower…

_That's not right, _Harry realized.

Nor was it right to see Dumbledore, Sirius, and Celtic Diggery all sitting in the first row, smiling proudly up at him…

Then he woke up.

Harry was lying on a very majestic black leather couch in a circular room lined with tall bookcases filled with black leather tomes, two well padded armchairs that matched the couch perfectly, a small dark wood table between the chairs, and from above the room was bathed in the gentle light of several glowing orbs that floated near the ceiling.

"Voldermort's? Harry wondered, since it was very much a possibility.

But there were no obvious ways of entering the room, nor could he get the bookcases to budge. The bookcases looked sturdy enough to climb, but he could see no skylights above the glowing orbs. In fact, he could barely see anything past them as they were becoming brighter and brighter.

That to Harry didn't mean anything good in the slightest…

And then the bookcase behind him shifted to one side, revealing Scrimgeour smiling proudly in the doorway.

"Well, glad to see that you weren't harmed at all." He beamed. "Welcome to the Ministry, Harry."

Harry blinked in shock. He had been expecting his greatest enemy, not this.

And when it wore away, the aggravation came forth…

"_You bastard!!"_ He yelled at Scrimgeour, before hurtling every colorful metaphor he knew (some he created on the spot) at the Minister, who in spite clenching his jaw, sharply narrowing his brow, and his face becoming red towards the end, did not launch a storm of his own at Harry.

In fact, he stayed quiet until Harry ran out of things to say.

"Now, Harry, "he quietly said entering the room, "such language is not tolerated here at the Ministry. But since we've gotten the 'niceties' out of the way, we can settle down to business."

"_I have no business with you!"_ Harry yelled at Scrimgeour. _"None what so ever!"_

"Survival Business, Harry." Scrimgeour continued at a louder, sharper tone. "Namely yours."

Harry just snorted defiantly.

"Criminals are a dangerous lot, Harry—especially to trust." Scrimgeour continued, "Dumbledore trusted that scummy fifth-rate thief, Fletcher—even placed your very life in his grubby hands. Well Harry, I'm here to tell you that Fletcher's dead. His throat cut so deeply, he might as well have been beheaded—and right in the middle of Hyde Park no less!"

Scrimgeour stared coldly at Harry for several moments. There was no reaction from Harry, he didn't flinch nor appear very impressed by the statement. So Scrimgeour decided to push matters with a gamble.

"You know, the whole lot of your friends were at a loss as to how you vanished right out from under their noses…And Fletcher was found with a crude map of the Weasley homestead in his robes…"

There was the barest shift in Harry's eyes. _Uncertainty_, it told Scrimgeour he was getting somewhere.

"So it seems to make a great deal of sense." Scrimgeour smoothly continued. "Fletcher spirited you away into a trap—and was well paid for it! So, you can see the necessity of the Ministry's actions in this case--We were protecting you from harm."

"_Bull!"_ Harry seethed, "You'd use any reasoning to get me to help you!"

"We're on the same side, Harry." Scrimgeour pointed out.

"I'm not on your side, Scrimgeour!" Harry shouted back. "I thought that was made—"

"Well sorry to say that events have dictated _otherwise!!_" Scrimgeour roared back. "You and your dear friends are in danger! In fact, just tonight, one of them had her parents brutally murdered!"

_Hermione's_. That shock Harry couldn't hide because it shook him to his core, his worst fear realized.

And Scrimgeour kept pounding away at him verbally. "The Dark Lord knows who each and everyone of them are, and he knows how near and dear they all are to you—_and how much pain he can inflict upon you by hurting and killing them!_

"So, by keeping them out of harms way, the Dark Lord cannot reach you! And that, The Ministry of magic swears to do its utmost to prevent!"

For that moment, it appeared to Scrimgeour that he'd finally gotten through to Harry. He was quiet, almost at the point of tears—especially over hearing what happened to Hermione's parents. But as Scrimgeour watched in triumph, Harry's face took on a scowling glare as he replied, "What about Stan Shunpike? Has he been released?"

Like air from a balloon, the sense of victory that he had began rushing away from him. But this time Scrimgeour had a credible answer.

"Stan Shunpike is guilty of _pretending_ to be a Death Eater, all because he thought it would be funny to scare people. We didn't think it was very funny, so a couple of months in Azkaban should cure him of any such notions in the future."

Unfortunately, that empowered Harry more than defeating him. And once again he stood defiantly before Scrimgeour, who was inwardly scrambling to regain control.

"We are not tolerating such behavior in the slightest." He gruffly continued. "Nor will we tolerate it from you."

"Unless I do exactly as you say." Harry mocked back. "Say hi to everyone in the Ministry, thanking them all for the job they aren't do—"

"_THAT IS ENOUGH!!"_ Scrimgeour roared back, practically forgetting his self control. _"THAT OFFER'S BEEN RETRACTED, IF YOU MUST KNOW!"_

If Harry was surprised by the outburst, it lay concealed behind his mask of defiance. Meanwhile, Scrimgeour recovered quickly from what would have been a serious gaff on his part while a sly grin formed on his face.

"So don't bother planning to embarrass the Ministry anytime soon, especially while you're a guest here."

Harry's gaze was still defiant, but there was a flicker of puzzlement as well.

"You'll be moved to more comfortable rooms, when they are prepared." Scrimgeour added. "Most of your needs will be met, and you'll even have your friends visit you as well. But for now, I must bid you a good day."

And without another word, Scrimgeour turned and exited through the hidden door.

Harry did try to follow, a desperate act if any to escape. But as he reached it, the bookcase slid back into place and would not budge.

8


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten.

The Caper Begins.

It was sheer, dumb luck that they'd found Potter at the Weasley home. But if Scrimgeour had his way, and most likely he would, the official record would be that Potter had been discovered through the diligent efforts of the Auror's Office.

That of course would be done when the time came, no need to get crass about it now. Anyway, there was that person who drove that car which eluded them in the busy avenue—they were still looking for both him and the car. Scrimgeour had a personal vendetta against them, for not handing Potter over to the Ministry in the first place.

But that too would be for later. Now, he made his way to the Portal Mirror which gave an excellent view of the private study where Harry was.

Prefit was already there, watching as Harry tried everything he could to open the door.

"He's certainly not giving up." Scrimgeour remarked with a smile.

Prefit nodded, "We should take that knife from him, though. He might do something rash with it."

"No, Dennis, I don't believe he has the _will_ to do something like that—even against us." Scrimgeour said. "Dumbledore never used anything stronger than a Stun Spell against anyone from the Ministry when provoked. I don't see the boy doing anything worse than that; it'll go against the _memory_."

Prefit's response was a dubious glance, and nothing more.

"Besides," Scrimgeour continued, "I have my doubts about the boy. All that power, but no real sense in how to use it. He'd been better off raised by a Wizarding family, not those vile, selfish, Muggles that Dumbledore put him with. That blunderer wasted a valuable resource, you know."

And with a quiet sigh, Prefit reserved himself to hear another long rant about Albus Dumbledore.

_"WENT-LY!"_

The Constable in charge of the Lock-up was a short, humorless, barrel-shaped man, whose wide ruddy face had been the target of many impacts, usually consisting of fists. But there were also marks left by pool sticks, cricket bats, a length of gas pipe, rocks, and one very memorable blow by a beer bottle during a football match which left a running scar the whole length of his round jaw on the lower right side.

Now his temper, which was extremely nasty, was beginning to show because the tall, oddly dressed man with thinning red hair and glasses, presently curled up asleep on the cell's bench, wasn't stirring in response to his repeated calls. In fact, the Constable wanted to go right in there, (which was his right), and throttle the lanky bum for not responding to his calls, (which wasn't his right).

_"WENT-LY!!!"_

Maybe he could bang the vagrant's head off the floor a few times, claiming he fell off the bench…

But when Mr. Weasley finally stirred, all chance of that ended. So the Constable had to be content with yelling.

_"GIT OFF YER BLOODY ARSE!! YER B'IN RELEASTED!!"_

A thought came to Mr. Weasley's still fuzzy mind, _was there someone else in this Cell with me?_

Mr. Weasley blinked the last of sleep from his eyes as he sat up and looked around the Cell.

There was no one else in the drab metal and brick room.

"Are you yelling at me?" He innocently asked the Constable, and promptly recoiled from the torrent of profanity unleashed upon him.

Upon regaining his senses, Mr. Weasley found himself being rudely propelled into a office area with several more Constables either doing work at their desks, socializing, or sleeping and other things he couldn't see because the Constable was steering him to a caged-in area—very similar in appearance to where Visitors to the Ministry check in their wands. There, a smiling Constable handed him a paper bag with all of the things he had when he was arrested at the Granger apartment and told him there was someone out in the front lobby waiting to take him home.

That someone turned out to be ebony skinned man with long dreadlocks and an earring in his left ear, wearing a highly fashionable white suit with matching wide-brimmed slouch hat and slender black walking cane.

"Mr. Weasley?" The Ebony Man greeted with his hand towards him.

But Mr. Weasley hesitated. The entire experience of being arrested the night before on the suspicion of murdering the Granger's in their apartment, the long interrogations over why he was there (and how he got in), and the attempts by the Police to either get a confession from him, or committed to an asylum) had now returned and he wasn't certain who the Ebony man was, or where he was from. His choice of attire was far to Mugglish to even make him a Wizard—at least one Mr. Weasley could identify with.

"Excuse me?" he cautiously replied.

The Ebony Man was both patient and prepared, for quickly from his jacket he brought out a shiny black wallet which he opened so Mr. Weasley could inspect his credentials.

Dynell Archer, from the American Bureau of Magical Affairs. It caused Mr. Weasley quite a lot of surprise, which Archer was quick to sense.

"It's best we go now." Archer said, while leading him to the door. "Ambassador Bone and Professor McGonagall are both waiting outside.

Mr. Weasley perked up after hearing that. "I have news for her."

Archer nodded and quickly led him from of the Police Station to an awaiting Lincoln Limousine parked outside at the curb. Bone, now in a brown three-piece business suit, with a gold watch chain adorned to his vest, and Professor McGonagall still in her traveling clothes and looking quite worn were waiting in the rear compartment.

"Hurry Mr. Weasley, please." Bone urgently spoke to him. "We must be away from here quickly."

Mr. Weasley complied. And once Archer was in the front seat, the giant black and chrome Lincoln pulled swiftly into traffic.

"Minerva, "Mr. Weasley hurriedly began, "Death Eaters have killed Hermione's—"

"Parents." McGonagall gravely finished. "Yes Arthur, I know."

"Which may, or may not have, prompted the Ministry to remove Mr. Potter from your home by force last night, Mr. Weasley?" Bone directly addressed him.

Mr. Weasley looked at Bone as if he'd just slapped him, but Professor McGonagall gravely explained, "It's true. After making Hogwarts ready, Alistair and I returned to your home and found it raided. They didn't find Ginny, but Molly, Hermione, Ron and Harry were taken. Alastor has her with Fred and George at the Joke Shop."

Mr. Weasley just sat in stunned silence. _Scrimgeour figured it out, but how?_

But then, the answer that came quickly to him wasn't surprising at all.

It made him burn with rage…._Percy!_

Not hardly surprising, but what Mr. Weasley now wondered about was why the American Ambassador was involved.

"How'd you get involved in all of this?" Mr. Weasley directly asked Bone, who didn't flinch by responding, "Two brutal murders; the first involved my predecessor, Walter Andword, in his apartments at Piccadilly. The second was the mauling victim from two nights ago. He was a special agent working with Ambassador Andword and a mercenary thief named Jayland Day, to secure a complete set of highly dangerous Necrocom's from a local Witch."

And Professor McGonagall suddenly came back to life.

_"Him?"_ she exclaimed.

"Yes, Professor." Bone calmly smiled back. "There are times when the Bureau utilizes such mercenaries for operations of a highly delicate nature, per say. In this matter, Day was highly recommended."

"Merlin's Beard." Mr. Weasley slowly exhaled in astonishment at the fact.

"And, "Bone continued, "we would like to offer his skills to rescue Mr. Potter and the others from the Ministry."

McGonagall was simply flabbergasted.

"Sir," she began after finding the words to speak, "while we are grateful for your offer, extremely grateful in deed…But, aren't what you are proposing a very grave breech of territorial policy between England and America?"

"They would be acting beyond their authority as so stipulated under International Wizarding Law." Mr. Weasley quickly put in. "What Ambassador Bone has proposed would be considered at act of war."

Bone sat quietly without raising a word of argument.

"But then," Mr. Weasley continued, "Scrimgeour is intent upon using Harry to boaster and cover all that the Ministry has done so far. It's an ideal Cornelius Fudge came up with in the hopes of remaining Minister, one which Harry would be used as a figurehead in which people would believe and support the Ministry since _'You know Who's'_ returned.

Scrimgeour's adopted it, and worked it so that Harry would be used to placate people into believing what the Ministry is doing is to their own benefit. And in that aspect, he'll never give up Harry—not ever."

"Especially when he makes such wonderful bait to catch the Dark Lord." Bone's words startled them both into absolute silence, causing them to exchange frantic looks.

"It's perfect, really." Bone then continued. "Scrimgeour's desperate and knows full well that he cannot keep things going in the way that they are, because people will begin to wonder if anything his Ministry is doing is going to protect them from The Dark Lord.

"Potter is perfect for this, as you just explained Mr. Weasley. But Potter's appearance as support will only delay the inedible; especially if the British Ministry keeps up blundering along as it has been doing." Bone then settled back in his seat, continuing, "I figure that there will be several public appearances, Potter will be paraded around as much as possible with a number of Ministry officials around—along with several squads of Aurors and Hit Wizards near-by.

"If the Dark Lord appears, expect Potter to die heroically. The Dark Lord will either die or be defeated by the Ministry, and Scrimgeour needn't answer to anyone for anything ever again."

Silence again, lasting only for moments before McGonagall broke it, "He wouldn't—"

"He would do it." Mr. Weasley bitterly frowned. "Especially since it would elevate the Ministry back into prominence, and everything else be conveniently forgotten."

"The Apparatus of Government is geared towards its own self-preservation, not that of the individual." Bone calmly pointed out to them. "No matter what, it will do all that it can to prevail—even to dip to inexcusable means to achieve such.

"It's no different with Mundane Governments. Deals, concessions, bargains, and agreements do and will chip away at individual's rights and freedoms which slowly making Government more and more powerful."

"So you propose breaking international laws as the way of dealing with this?" McGonagall sharply criticized. "It's no different than what you've just explained, just now."

Bone sat quietly for a few moments, entirely at peace with himself in the backseat of the Lincoln.

Then he turned to McGonagall. "There is an alternative."

"Then let's hear it." McGonagall demanded.

_"Containment."_ Bone answered, and McGonagall recoiled in horror.

"That's…not…no." she sputtered.

Mr. Weasley looked on in concerned.

"We'll be exposed!" McGonagall cried. _"Are you insane?"_

"No." Bone gently shook his head. "The World Wizarding Conference is prepared to table the proposal in a specially held meeting. They don't want The Dark Lord spreading his influence across the World. And if he's not stopped here, by the end of this year there will be a wall of sufficient force formed around the entire British Isles physically stopping any comings or goings with the outside world."

"But..." McGonagall started to plead, but Bone shook his head cutting her off.

"I'm sorry." He said. "It's out of my hands…But, we can prevent it from ever occurring in the first place."

"How?" Mr. Weasley finally asked.

"By helping Mr. Day." Bone simply answered.

8


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven.

First Assessments.

_"You want me where?"_

_"London, Sky. London, England." I told him over the phone. "I need major assistance with a big job."_

_"Buzz is plans for isolating that place if the natives don't shake a leg on a certain issue." He replied in his usual redneck way, a half a world away._

_"I know the issue." I respond._

_"And the Caper involves it, right?"_

_Skywise has a very definite way of getting to the bottom of things. "You are the true moth to the flame, Boy. There's no way you can be kept from trouble."_

_"I'll pay you three times normal, Sky. I really need your help on this."_

_"Sure sounds like it."_

_"You know I'm not stingy."_

_"Tell that to Roz."_

_I don't know if he needles for fun, or he really did care for that little sneak-thief who nearly brought my career to an end down in old Mexico a while back. But I do which he'd stop bringing things up from second hand talk, especially when it comes from her friends._

_"Roz got exactly what was coming to her for that deception." I sharply tell him. "Anyway, I'm in need of heavy magic over here to back me up."_

_"What?! Didn't I teach you enough?"_

_"I'm juggling a lot of balls here, there's too much heat to do it for very long."_

_"Stealth and Timestop can't cut it?"_

_"A VIP needing rescue."_

_"Ah," He coos, "the plot thickens."_

_I stand on the edge; either I get down to the facts or risk a blow-up when he finds out._

_Aw, screw it…_

_"Harry Potter." I tell him, crossing my fingers._

_Silence. But Skywise didn't hang up as I feared; Buck Owens is still singing away in the background along with the sound of water. So I count what little blessings I have accrued, because he can still tell me to go blow myself._

_"How," he slowly begins, "in the hell did you manage to get hooked up with that? No…Wait, I should know better than to ask."_

_"Would you believe he ran into me?"_

_"Given you're a trouble magnet, I'm hardly surprised." He remarks. "England, huh?"_

_"Jolly old England." I smile._

_"Ah huh, ok, give me a few hours to get my act together."_

_I send him directions to the warehouse in London's industrial district that's being used for our staging area, and get things set for an advanced payment—which I'll pass along to Bone._

_It's the cost of doing business._

_With that out of the way, I dive into my disguise kit for a good going over. _

_Normally, Wizards and Witches with the ability would transfigure themselves or take a shot of Polyjuice. But either cannot fool a De-Guise spell, which just so happens to be extremely popular with the paranoid and ultra-security types. I don't know if the Ministry is set up that way, but I've always had a preference for latex and grease paint over spells due to their non-magical properties. At least I won't be setting off alarms, unless I act really dumb enough around the guards._

_The kit's fine, and soon both my face and neck are puffed up and rounded with fake fat—a definite opposite of my usual lean-and-handsome look. _

_Now onto clothing, an essential part of any good disguise. Luckily most wizards have no clothing sense beyond the robe, that's why they always stand out in a crowd like a naked man with his hair on fire. Giant-waist check trousers, with suspenders, a very blah white shirt, dark sport coat, canvas shoes, and a long frock coat—all managed with the use of a strap on air-bladder—will work for starts. _

_Then a wig of moppish black curly hair, with some additional latex to really fatten my face out. Pair of flesh colored gloves to make both my hands and forearms look flabby, and quite capable of passing even the best inspection. Cock-bottle lenses glasses, fake teeth that give me a serious over-bite…_

_And I resemble a Wizard by the name of Barnabus Coal, or so the papers say, from Perth, Australia._

_Not bad for two hours work, or so I say to myself while looking things over in the mirror. Little things like candies, money, handkerchief, and a traveling quill and ink set I casually drop into the pockets of my clothes before starting out…_

_And the phone rings._

_While it beats someone banging on your door while you're in the shower, or trying to reach the bathroom before the bowels break, still having things disrupted by some caller is among my biggest irritations. Plus, it all-so-nudging reminds me to get an answering machine._

"_Wal-low?" I reply, forgetting the mouthful of wad I'm using for the cheeks—and just managed to pull it out just in time to hear Bone on the other end politely apologize, "please pardon, I apparently have dialed the wrong number."_

"_So what did you want to talk about?" I yell into the phone, half because he did get the right number—and half because his timing really pissed me off._

"_Mr.….Day?"_

_My annoyance wouldn't be satisfied with playing nice, but keeping a cool head is always helpful. Especially if the person you are speaking with can make your life really miserable really easy._

"_Yes," I carefully reply into the phone, "you caught me just as I was about to leave for the Ministry."_

"_Ah, excellent timing then. I have important information for you."_

_And important it was. I would have loved to have had a recorder with me, for by some stroke of luck Bone managed to get a hold of Professor McGonagall and Ron's father, Arthur—who up until the day before had actively worked at the Ministry. From them alone, I must have saved at least a good month's worth of scouting work which would have had me at risk the whole time…_

_And discovered that Harry wasn't the only thing the Ministry had. There were three others; Ron, Hermione, and Arthur's wife, Molly."_

"_I would be very grateful if you were able to find and free them." Arthur, himself, told me over the phone. He was quite nervous, and scared—but clearly he was a man who loved his family dearly._

_I am, at times like this, a very sentimental sap. But I also realize that by holding them, the Ministry can easily control Harry._

_Of course, many may point out that I am actually going to help Voldermort by doing what I'm about to do…_

_But, in this case, with knowing what I know now, are the Ministry's plans worth defending after what they've done?_

Through it all, he still had his pocket knife and the note pad.

When seven Auror's entered the study with wands drawn, Harry had the knife in his hands. It was his intention not to make it easy for them, but he was expecting them to use an Imperius Curse. Not binding cords and a Locomotor Charm to move him through the lower halls of the Ministry to a very well furnished apartment, even by Wizarding standards, where he was set to rest on an ornate Persian rug.

"You can use that knife of yours to cut yourself loose." The last Auror to leave the room smirked while closing the door.

That took a very long time. His position was awkward, even more so than it was on the floor of the Olden Town apartment, and the knife slipped out of his hands several times during the process. But when free, Harry stood surveying his surroundings with deeply seated anger. This had to have been a special place, he figured, dark wood paneling, well made furniture with the same dark leather upholstery as the study he was carried from, and all lit from the ceiling by spectacular looking chandlers of brass and crystal, a large four-poster bed and broad ivory bathtub—each in their respective room-- there were bookshelf's filled with black leather books, just like the Study, and in the far corner there was a writing table with fresh ink, quills, and parchment—along with the latest copy of the Daily Prophet, wrapped up with a blue ribbon embossed with his name.

And on everything, the Ministry's Official Seal was prominently embossed, engraved, or painted on.

Harry scowled at it all, having had more than his fill of it all.

And while in the depths of this anger, which he searched for a means of escaping this place, he remembered the notepad.

It was till reasonably intact from being in his pocket all the time, even the indentation from what Day wrote could still be seen despite the marring from being in his pocket. Carefully, Harry held the pad up before him, took a deep breath and said, "Jayland Day."

And in his hands, the notepad slowly turned into a modern, slim-line cell phone—with a message on it's tiny message screen for him

Harry just grinned with absolute glee.

He was a portly man who waddled with a distinct air through Ministry's entry foyer, yet to the skilled Auror's stationed there the plump man didn't give any sign of being anything more than what he was—Barnabus Coal, from Perth, here to deal with matters involving his passport.

And so, Jayland Day entered the Ministry of Magic.

As he moved through the busy corridors, he made practiced mental notations on how Ministry Wizards wore their robes—especially in their overall design, stitching style and placement of ornamentation that signified rank and department. Even more so was in how those of rank acted around the more common, and likewise how they spoke to one another. Physical appearance really didn't matter much, nor did the length and color of the Wizards' beards. But the number of officials did, since the higher number meant the easier any infiltration could be made. These, or course, would be matters he'd quiz Mr. Weasley on when they'd meet later in the day. But for now, it was best not to stray too far from Coal's business at the Ministry.

The identification documents were slightly out of date, but there was not worry as the Clerk properly got them up to date with new ones that bore the Official Seal of the Ministry, each embossed in glorious silver and gold leaf, and tucked protectively in a paperback book sized wallet.

And about then is when his cell phone started vibrating.

Pausing in the way that he did drew the attention of those around him on both sides of the counter, especially hawkish faced Auror who quickly moved towards him.

And thinking just as quickly, Day stepped towards the Auror asking, in a well accented voice, "Ah s'er, 'ould you point da way to da d'ni?"

This not only stopped the Auror, but left him in such a puzzled state that made it easy for Day to influence him.

"D'ni." Day modestly repeated.

And the Auror still didn't understand. So, acting as if he was on the verge of suffering a very embarrassing bodily disaster, Day leaded closely as he could to the Auror and quietly said, "Toy-let."

Now that the Auror understood oh so clearly and quickly lead the way to the nearest bathroom. After making sure it was wholly unoccupied, Day squeezed into one of the stalls while pulling the fake teeth and cheek wads from his mouth—then the still vibrating cell phone from his shirt pocket.

_Thank God he's patient, _Day noted, and answered.

"Hello?"

There was a gasp from the other end that became a laugh of relief.

"_Mr. Day,"_ Harry laughed from the other end, _"it's good to hear from you."_

"Good to here from you too. How you doing?"

"_Terrible."_  
"That's understandable."

"_Scrimgeour has me in a posh suite, somewhere in the lower levers of the Ministry."_

Day made a mental note before asking, "Your friends too?"

The pause from the other end told Day everything.

"_They're here as well?"_

"'Fraid so, Harry. Most likely to keep a hold over you. Have you seen them yet?"

"_No."_

"Alright now listen to me." Day thought quickly because he could hear an argument occurring right outside the Bathroom door, and the one thing he feared at the moment was that it was going to spill into where he was—soon, from the sound of it.

"Until we can find them, there's no way we can even try rescuing you." He told Harry. "Ask about them in an enquiring way, not a demanding one—because those holding you here may get suspicious. Try to arrange a visit if you can, several if possible. This is going to take time to set up."

Day could almost here Harry grate his teeth at the other end.

"I'm sorry to be a bitch—"Day began, but Harry stopped him.

"_No, it's not that. Scrimgeour told me that he doesn't want me to be the Ministry's 'Poster Boy."_

"What?" Day exclaimed.

The argument outside was getting louder.

"_He says he doesn't 'need' me anymore."_

"_Damn!_" Day cursed. "And that would have made some good leverage."

Now something was being thumped against the Bathroom door from the outside.

"Look Harry, I gotta go. Do what I told you to do about your friends, and be very cool. Keep the phone safe, I'll get back to you in two hours."

Day didn't hear what Harry had to say before shutting the phone off. He'd just hoped he'd do nothing rash until being contacted again so to start work on a plan. But now, Day had to leave the Bathroom quickly. And after inserting the oral aspects of the disguise, waddled his way to the door just in time to have it explode open to the sight of a white bearded wizard screaming in obvious bodily distress with the hawkish Auror close behind.

At that point, Day figured it was best to just slip away as unobtrusively as possible.

9


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve.

The Joke Shop.

Harry wasn't sure what to do.

After Day hurriedly ended their conversation, he just sat there staring at the cell phone in his hand.

What he did know however wasn't pleasant. The Ministry had both him and his friends, while he, on the other hand, didn't have a single thing beyond his knife and the cell phone—and the link to the outside it provided.

_That offers been retracted, _he remembered Scrimgeour yelling. It had surprised him, but he never thought much about it, until remembering it.

_Why would I be here, if I wasn't wanted? _Harry wondered. The matter puzzled him and worried him. He didn't buy the excuse about his safety, and was also certain about Fletcher honesty—otherwise, Dumbledore wouldn't have trusted him.

But why, after over a year of trying to recruit Harry to support the Ministry would he suddenly retract that offer with no explanations given?

That had Harry wondering, and so much so that he wasn't aware of people entering the apartment until a very familiar voice called out from the main room, "Hey Harry! Where are ya, mate?"

Harry practically jumped in panic, shoving the cell phone into his pants pocket before realizing it was Ron. Then there was Hermione and Mrs. Weasley chastening him for his rudeness, and they were still going at it when Harry emerged from the bedroom.

"Harry!! I'm so glad you're safe!" Mrs. Weasley cried as she rushed up to hug him, still in her robes and apron. "We were so worried when we didn't see you after being revived by the Ministry Healers."

Ron and Hermione were standing back with beaming smiles on their faces.

That nagged at Harry. The worry he expected, but the actions—something was wrong.

But what?

"I'm fine." He said pulling back from Mrs. Weasley's embrace to look her in the face, "Really, I—"

The eyes…Mrs. Weasley's eyes hadn't that usual shine they normally did when she was happy…

"I'm fine." Harry replied, faking an earnest smile before turning to Ron and Hermione…

Their eyes were no different than Mrs. Weasley's…

"Good, good." Mrs. Weasley cheered. "Ms. Umbridge was worried about you too, Harry."

And as if on cue, Dolores Umbridge, as evil as ever in her dark robes appeared around the corner smiling at him.

And Harry suddenly went very cold within.

"Let's see," the portly Ministry Wizard began, reciting from his thick scroll, "Five- hundred Curse-Proof Hat's, Five-hundred Curse-Proof Cloaks, Five-hundred pairs of Curse-Proof Gloves…"

George Weasley bobbed his head to everything recited by the portly wizard from the Ministry's Department of Acquisition, and his scroll was quite long and full of multiple, and redundant, Ministry ordained checks and balances—which the portly wizard didn't mind at all going through. But by the time the Joke Shop's only truly viable source of income was done and satisfied with all the procedures, George not only had a very sore neck but a raging headache as well.

But the worse had yet to come…

"Just sign at the 'X' on all ten copies." The portly wizard told him, handing over the scrolls.

"Ten?" George baulked. "Last time it was six."

"Ah!" The portly wizard indignantly exclaimed. "It's the new Dictate from the Ministry regarding all consignments. You need to pay more attention to all Ministry correspondence sent to your shop."

"We do, "George meekly responded, "but we get lost after the Fiftieth revision."

"Well, _security is necessary!_ We don't want You Know Who discovering Ministry Protocol now do we?"

Actually, the Weasley brothers pretty much figured that the only use Voldermort would have for Ministry Protocol would be to wipe himself with after a trip to the Privy—if he ever did such that is. But the brother's kept that notion all to themselves, not only to speed along the paperwork but to keep the money flowing into their shop which had been seriously struggling since the devastating death of Albus Dumbledore.

Many considered the Hogwarts Headmaster to be the best defense against Voldermort, next to Harry Potter, due to the Dark Lord's absolute fear of him. But, with him slain, by one of his own no less, people's fears and desperations reached all time highs. Hardly anyone came to Diagon Alley, and the remaining merchants sold off their stocks, closed up their shops, and ran to wherever they felt the safest.

The Weasley Brothers didn't leave…

In fact, they couldn't. The Goblins at Gringotts' so pointed out that fact to them; their Collection Troll's had never failed in tracking down those with outstanding loans, or in collecting on them. And if they ever survived this, the brothers sword vividly, they would actually take the time to read all of the fine print on the loan application form.

_If they survived…_

Between having to accept what the Ministry offered and having to listen through another Ministry recruitment speech, which the portly wizard always gave, ("You both would make fine additions to your older brother." he'd always say), being killed by a Death Eater was becoming a very appealing option. At least the bank wouldn't be hounding their parents, anyway.

"There." George said, handing the ten documents back to the portly wizard—all signed in record time.

But of course, the portly wizard had to go over each one carefully to see if all was proper…

And that's when the front bell rang, which made George quietly give thanks to whatever God decided to be nice to him at that particular moment.

"Just send the payment to Gringotts, as so agreed upon." George hurriedly smiled to the portly wizard. "I have a customer, please excuse me—and lock the door on your way out."

And was through the curtain before the portly wizard could say anything about it.

The Customer who just entered was a trim man with a soft friendly face and shirt dark hair wearing dark denim bell-bottoms, black sneakers with white socks, and a billowy white shirt and black tie with a black leather jacket worn over it. All in all, to George, he looked like a Muggle. But in spite the odd looks from Verity behind the counter, George still greeted him with his best smile.

"Good day Sir. What would you be interested in having?"

"Illusion Cloaks." The Man smiled. "I understand you have some from d'Mimsy." His voice wasn't too overbearing, but definitely foreign, or carrying—at least into the backroom, as George so hoped.

Because this was the man Moody was waiting for…

"I believe we do have some in the backroom area." George motioned towards the curtain that he'd emerged from moments before. "It's not an item we'd regularly display, thieves you know."

"Of course." nodded the Man, and followed George at his beckoning through the curtain.

The portly wizard was gone, much to George's relief.

But there was Moody standing by the door.

"You cut it very close, Mr. Day." He lowly growled. "That Ministry Clerk didn't want to leave so readily."

"I hope you didn't—"George began, but Moody cut him off with a curt look.

"I merely convinced him to be on his way, George. And he is."

George Weasley nodded with relief, which Moody watched with a frown.

_They were all on edge._

_Not surprising, given the circumstances. But that I pushed aside for more important matters._

"_I have someone on the way." I told Moody. "He should be here by mid-afternoon. And we can start on the forged documents soon afterward."_

_He faced me in a way that was hard to tell weather he was scowling or looking his normal self, the scars on his face made it that difficult to decide._

"_Assuming you've got the right ones." He replied, that eye of his swiveling on me._

_I nodded, but he raised his wand at me as I reached into my jacket._

"_The Gun..." He motioned his wand at me._

_Of course, the formalities. And soon he was examining my pistol._

"_Browning Hi-Power, Nine Millimeter double-action automatic. Belgium manufacture…And it's been charmed."_

"_Very useful." I smile._

"_It's highly illregular." He remarked, removing its clip and clearing the chamber with practiced ease—dropping the pistol into his left coat pocket and the rest into his right coat pocket, while George watched with fascination. "Normally, it's done to knives—just like the ones you have concealed on your person...Among other things."_

_It's that eye of his. Harry told me about it._

_Nothing escapes it. After he was satisfied with the pistol, knives, and my various tool kits, he allowed me to draw out the document wallet—which he examined as well._

"_Newly created personal documentation, bearing official Ministry seals." He seemed impressed. "How did you manage to get them?"_

"_Barnabus Coal was quite tardy in keeping his paperwork up to date. So I walked right in, and the nice Aurors' pointed me in the right direction."_

_It made George grin, but Moody's frown was very angry._

"_Sloppy." He growled, closing the wallet with a harsh snap. "Rufus knows better than to keep the unessential open during emergencies."_

_Well I wouldn't know that, but the thought certainly peeved him off._

"_So, I take it you got a very good look at the place?"_

"_It's quite a place." I answered, to which he nodded his head. To which I decided to spring the next question on him._

"_You wouldn't happen to know where any special apartments are in that place—namely in the basement area, or near it?"_

_That drew a questioning look from both of them._

"_Why ask that?" Moody demanded._

"_Harry figures he's in such, at that particular area." I tell him. "He told me so himself."_

"_You seen him?" George eagerly asks._

_The hopeful look on his face falls as I explain, "No, I spoke with him."_

_That set them both wondering until I told Moody, "I left him a cell phone, de-guised as a Notepad."_

_George gazes at me wonderingly while Moody goes pale with shock. Ah, so he seen it—probably as I pitched it into the bag._

"_I thought it was a Portkey." He confesses. "So I took the page you had written on."_

_I'm glad he didn't take the whole thing._

_So is Harry._

For once since he had taken office, Rufus Scrimgeour had every reason to smile—especially when reading the Daily Prophet.

Instead of reading more of the ongoing news of further Death Eater attacks, Voldermort sightings and scathing assaults upon the Ministry's efforts to stop the Dark Lord, there he was smiling and standing proudly behind Harry Potter as he announced his intentions to 'help the Ministry to the best, and beyond, of my ability in these Dark times."

_It is time that any differences we had be set aside for the greater good of combating the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters, announced Harry Potter to an assemblage of foreign wizards this afternoon in the Ministry's main assembly hall, _ _My Mentor, the great Albus Dumbledore, warned me the Dark Lord would take every opportunity he could to divide us, to set us against each other with lies and mistrust—so we'd become easy prey for Him and his Minions to destroy._

_Well, I am here to say that will not happen. It will never happen, nor shall it ever can happen!_

Scrimgeour could still hear the rousing applause in his ears from the assemblage, feeling the rush of pride that filled not only him but the entire Hall as well. Clearly, it was a stroke of undeniable genius aimed at upsetting the Dark Lord's plans…

Because the one most important lesson Rufus Scrimgeour learned in his long career as an Auror was to never believe that any trick, spell, or method was ever below you.

If the Dark Lord used lies and trickery to divide and conquer, why can't the Ministry do the same to him? Muggles did it all the time in both politics and war, and just the same always involved a great deal of risk to succeed. For the Ministry in this case, the Wizarding World wouldn't take kindly to being deceived like this—but it was a risk Scrimgeour was fully prepared to take. Only those of his innermost circle knew everything, and those people he could trust until death and beyond so no worry bothered him over committing the act.

And most of all, the real Harry Potter was in no position to spoil it.

He would remain down there until the time arrived when it was no longer necessary to hold him or his friends. They were only insurance, to keep Potter under control.

There would be apologies afterward, but never public ones. No need to stain the Ministry any further in that regard. Oh, they'll yell and scream about it—especially Potter.

But who was going to bother listening after the Dark Lord was either dead or apprehended along with his followers?

None, and Scrimgeour knew it. Everyone would be too busy celebrating to even care or bother knowing…

And that's what made it all perfect.

8


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen.

Setting Up.

All Harry could do was look.

There He was on the front page of the Daily Prophet, praising the Ministry for its efforts to combat the 'scourge of the Dark Lord'…Only it wasn't him.

_Metamorphmagus_, that's what Tonks' called people like herself, due to their ability to physically, change their appearance. Far rarer than an Animagus', which anyone could be if they were sufficiently persistent, since one had to literally be born with the ability to be a Metamorphmagus…

So Tonks had told him…

The more Harry stared at the picture, the more she came into mind. Didn't Ron say something about Remus Lupin being arrested soon after The Ministry crashed the wedding? Of course, Ron wasn't at his best that morning having been up the entire night with very little sleep—and most of his words were slurred before finally succumbing to the fatigue. Bill and Fleur, Hagrid and Madame Maxime, Harry tried to think what Ron had said about Lupin being arrested just because of what he was…

And if he was, Tonks would definitely have joined him—or tried to free him.

That made him wonder as he stared at the newspaper.

_The Weasley's Joke Shop was the sole occupant of a wide four floored building, done solely for safety, as George explained to us, since the brothers experiments can, do, and have caused a significant amount of noise and destruction that usually can be contained to a localized area, sometimes…_

_But given considerations for what they do, needing plenty of space was a must and none of it was going to waste. The second floor was initial storage of all delivered items, and items the brothers created themselves—all nicely and clearly labeled for quick reference and stored for easy grabbing. The third was the 'laboratory', though the walls and door rooms were still in place as if the building was still a rooming house. But then, the Brothers may not want to display what they've been creating in their laboratory until it's finished and ready for sale—couldn't blame them for doing that._

_But the fourth and final floor was still like a rooming house, because that's where the Brothers' lived. And quite fascinating with what they did with the layout; in stead of rooms and corridors, they made a circular open central area with a paneled domed skylight in the ceiling, some of which were open allowing air to circulate into the room. A kitchen was built into the far end of the room, opposite the door. What looked like a small Bar was situated next to that, and moderately stocked with bottles of liquor. Several bookcases were near the door, and a large heavy wooden round table, piled with various amounts of clutter, sat dominantly in the center surrounded by several high-backed chairs. Three doors were situated on either side of the outer wall, these I believed to be entrances to private rooms and such._

_In fact, from the third door on the far right wall, George's identical twin emerged with wand in hand and a surprised look on his face._

_"Hey, easy, Fred." George called out to his counter part. "Our American Friend has arrived."_

_I did my best smile when Fred turned to look at me._

_"Well, he's certainly an odd one." He commented while looking me over._

_I have had worse said to me at first meetings._

_"He may know where Harry and the others are being held." George continued, and that let Fred's face up significantly—which put me off a little. Harry maybe the most important one of the whole bunch, but family and friends happen to be just as important as well. And the Weasley's didn't strike me as being bad parents…_

_But this is just me._

_"I'll need to speak about your father on that." I quickly put in. "All Harry told me—"_

_"You spoke with Harry?" Fred homed in on me absolutely astonished. And before I could explain, or Moody stopping him, George spilled everything to his brother in a giddy rush—which was less correct than I explained._

_"Look." I quickly, needfully, stepped in to explain. "I do not know where Harry is exactly in the Ministry. There maybe special areas, apartments, for special people to stay on visits or live—or maybe, these areas may have been forgotten—"_

_"Or not completely." Moody cut in. "Granted, the Ministry itself stretches father than the city it lies beneath. But, there are areas that the people there don't know about, because they've been walled and blocked off long ago—and forgotten by most, if the stories are correct._"

_If the Stories were correct…Sounds more like the tales of the New Your Subway System, one of which describes an opulently furnished subway station that had been long closed off with a perfectly preserved grand piano and still working water fountain—discovered by workers building a new subway line. The lack of any real record keeping, or preserving in this case, helps fuel such tales. _

_Of course, things do become lost, misplaced, misfiled…_

_Sometime deliberately, for a purpose._

_"Doesn't sound like it to me." Came a soft, childish voice from behind Fred. _

_Then from behind Fred, she appeared; a young girl in her mid-teens with long red hair and freckles—the tell-tale signs of the Weasley family. She was wearing a simple pull over dress, white socks, and simple shoes—not to mention a very hard look on her otherwise cute face._

_"Anything's possible, Ginny." Moody replied. "Rufus may have remembered a few of the old places…"_

_That's when my cell phone started vibrating._

_"Going to answer that, Mr. Day?" Moody then asked. "It might be Harry."_

_It was almost two hours, as I had promised him. So as the Weasley's watched, I slipped the phone out of my jacket and answered with the volume up so everyone could hear._

_"Jay, its Sky." The Hillbilly twang came through loud and clear, causing several distressed sighs to occur. "I'm setting up at the warehouse, where are you located?"_

_Moody just looked at me._

_"Weasley Joke Shop, Diagon Alley. Any problems?"_

_"No, the Anti-Christ is working just fine—for once."_

_A disgruntled roar of an engine occurred then, and Sky shouted back at it._

_"Sorry. I'll be finished with the set up here in about two or three hours." Skywise returned. "Have Doc and Dolly on stand-by back in Fresno, they can be here in ten minutes when the call goes."_

_"That's fine, Sky, that's fine." 'Doc' was a nickname, I never found out what his real one was though Dolly, he wife, often called him 'Darren'—which is a start. He's a Healer and, highly skilled in Surgery, Field Medicine, and Science…far more than the average Street Doc, far, far more—he's like Sky, what's called on the street a 'Stand User'. Dolly, if that is her real name, has a fondness for loud rock-n-roll and punk- western attire. Her magic relies largely on music played by one of several guitars she owns, and the speed of her numerous six-guns. They're good at support, as they have been on numerous occasions. I wasn't worried._

_But if Sky had brought the Anti-Christ along, just how were we going to hide that ornery, hot-rodded, patchwork, 1977 Ford LTD Station Wagon? _

_Let alone him driving it through London, he wasn't very patient with slow drivers…_

_Neither was the Anti-Christ…_

_That's what I was worried about._

The _Faux_-Potter scheme was already into its second week and working flawlessly.

There was no argument coming from Fudge as to who the credit for it should go to, and if he ever opened his mouth about it Scrimgeour could easily have him shipped off to Azkaban just because he ignored the warnings of The Dark Lord's return—as people were starting to want. Which, of course, Scrimgeour was considering…

However, that would haft to wait. There were scrolls from the European Continent, from the various Heads of the Ministries there, praising him on the turn-a-round he effected with his own Ministry in this case. Calls for 'Containment' were dimming in the light of these new developments with Potter, and Scrimgeour was assured such disastrous notions had been swept aside.

It made him pause with the realization of how close this had come to revealing everything to the Muggle World. Not a comfortable notion to deal with, but one he could keep at arms length for the time being.

But his attentions were on one scroll in particular.

The scroll in the red parchment told him the Auror's Office had finalized plans for a full-scale raid on Knockturn Alley and the whole of Olden Town. It was to be a significant sweep of the whole area for any of the Dark Lord's supporters, supply stores, and general resources that could be used by either Him or his Death Eaters. It also gave the Ministry the long wanted chance to really establish it's authority in the area, long a place where evil had it's say for too long a time.

But the plan suffered from one serious drawback; there weren't enough wizards or witches in the Auror's Office to perform the blitz quickly enough to prevent alerting those they wanted to capture. Granted, it would seriously disrupt their plans like the recent assault on Borgin's and Burks'. But it was vital to capture each and every one of the supporters, or else haft to deal with them later on after they've been able to replenish their numbers.

This Scrimgeour gave serious though to. A recruitment drive would be useful; there'd be no end of volunteers to help the Ministry now. But it would also give the Dark Lord a chance to place many of his minions within Ministry forces, which would have disastrous effects for the Ministry—and the Island as well.

People were already volunteering, thanks to 'Harry'. But the Raid would need to be handled by trusted and experienced Aurors.

He glanced wonderingly at the scrolls from the Foreign Ministries, and debated the possibilities…

_Oh, damn it all! Sometimes you just haft to…_ He finally concluded, and rang for his secretary.

The bell wasn't even back in its place when a fetching, young blond witch hurried into the room with scroll and quill at the ready, stopping before his desk.

"Fleece, I need to send an urgent message to the Ministries of Europe—America as well." Scrimgeour began, leaning back in his chair, and the Secretary began writing at once.

"Respective Minister," he started, "In our Battle to rid the World of The Dark Lord, we in Briton are preparing to undertake a significant step against a long held bastion of His Supporters—right here in the very heart of this ancient Muggle City.

"For too long, the foul denizens of Knockturn Alley and of the seeder sections of Olden Town have reveled as a hot bed of Dark Arts…"

Scrimgeour paused at this point, glancing at the small calendar on his desk while performing quick mental figuring with time before returning to his waiting secretary, "By the Fourteenth of July, all that will change when the Ministry of Magic's Auror Office sweeps this area of such vermin completely. The task is great, but necessary in breaking The Dark Lord's power in this country.

"But, I do warn you that there maybe repercussions from this for all of us who stand against Him. We will not be afraid here in Briton, we will not cower down before Him—giving Him the victory he so seeks. Nor should you in your far away lands do the same.

"Now is the time to join together with Harry Potter himself to rid this World of this menace once and for all! For together, we can defeat The Dark Lord!

"Just sign my name to every copy that's sent with the standard closing, Fleece." Scrimgeour told his secretary with a wave of his hand. "And they all should be in flight by the end of the day."

She nodded while scribbling it all down. And just before Scrimgeour wanted to dismiss her, she quickly piped up, "The Auror's Office will have the itinerary for the Potter Promotion on your desk within the hour, for your final approval. It will also include all necessary support, involving Auror's, Hit Wizards, Ministry Journalistic Staff, Assistants, Catering—"

"I shall review the entire itinerary when it arrives." Scrimgeour nodded, smiling.

And again, before he could get a chance to send her away, she quickly leaped into, "And, there's an American Historian waiting to see you about a featured history of the Ministry of Magic. This is a request, originally filed during the time of Minister Fudge but denied by his staff for reasons not made clear…"

It was fairly obvious, Scrimgeour figured. Shunning aside that which wasn't necessary to deal with had always been done. And typically, if it really wasn't important why deal with it?

Scrimgeour, at the moment, though was of a different mind. While a historian wasn't the kind that wrote stories for the newspapers, still they were journalists who recorded histories for long term posterity. And history was on the verge of being made…

What an opportunity.

But first…

"Has his identity been certified?" he asked his secretary.

And she nodded. "Andrew Burn, resident of San Francisco, acknowledged Professor of History—Sanddale University of Thaumaturgy, Napa Valley, California. He has been a professional writer and history teacher for the past twelve years."

_Efficient, without being self-serving, _Scrimgeour thought before having his secretary let this visitor in. That certainly put her several steps over his former secretary, wherever he was sent.

9


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen.

Skywise.

He had put up with a goodly number of things in his life, far more than what anyone who ever knew would consider remotely humanly possible for anyone to ever go through—Wizard or Mundane that is. In fact, well before hitting middle-age, Skywise had been to every corner of the globe several times, dealt with all matter of circumstances in those places, and was very happy to never return to some of them, (and the people and creatures that resided in those places—though it was rather difficult to tell what was what in those places), unless somehow he could obtain several large-scale nuclear warheads to detonate in those particular areas so he'd never be bothered returning to them ever again…

But then, not all magical creatures can be so easily dealt with. Some may even come back even stronger than before. And there was nothing worse than having a royally pissed-off magical creature come looking for you, as he figured they would in such cases.

It was just a given, absolutely impossible to avoid—like taxes or the flu.

But after a week at the Weasley Joke Shop, Skywise wouldn't have minded dealing with such irate creatures on his doorstep. The Weasley children were just driving him nuts, both with questions at times when he needed to concentrate upon the forged Ministry documents being carefully made on his computer system—and when they weren't prodding or hi-jacking the computer system because they were either very curious as to what it could do, or very bored with nothing to do. Well, yes, this was the older boys' home. And he was in their 'laboratory', taking up one whole table with the computer system. And by definition he was a guest, subject to the rules of the home…

But the forgeries had to be perfect. For that, the computer shouldn't, didn't need to be poked, probed, examined, or, as one particular morning when he came down to start work, pulled apart and examined by very curious wizards wondering how it all worked.

It was just luck that the boys' didn't cause any real damage to the laptop, scanner, or printer. But just the same, it was the closest he'd ever come to killing out of sheer anger—using not magic but one of the four sawed-off Browning Auto-5 Shotguns' he always carried around whenever on an adventure.

If Moody and the boys' Father hadn't appeared…

So, the long experienced wizard toiled away at his computer, making sure that each document came out perfect and indisputable right down to the magical essences emanating from the paper and foil stamp itself as if his very existence counted on it--as he knew it did. Containment was a very serious matter, and being there in London was putting himself at risk of being snared within the contained area facing the dangers of both a vile wizard commanding the darkest of spells and the anger of a mundane public finding itself trapped in the middle of it all.

With no escape that could keep it remaining hidden, the Magical Community would have no choice but to expose itself to the World. That was the definite if Voldermort wasn't captured and contained soon, there was no 'other way' even possible at this point.

In fact, he couldn't.

This was one of those situations where either it's fought here and now or later on your doorstep, despite what you though about it-- that he learned from his family growing up. That was the attitude that got him into dangerous situations, and it was determination that got him out of it. And he would be damned to hide under his bed while the world around him burned, especially if he had the power to change or prevent it from occurring…

Besides, he got bored too easily. He needed excitement.

He needed a challenge…

The current situation in Briton, balanced out by the constant curiosity of the Weasley's and his own very high standard of perfection made for a very challenging situation. But nothing he couldn't handle…Just as long as those boys' didn't decide to see how the computer worked, again, everything would be fine.

One by one, the different forgeries slipped into the finished tray. Each he gingerly inspected both magically and with a magnifying lens, before placing them carefully in the special brown paper box to carry upstairs...

"He's coming up." Moody announced, then rose from his place at the table and lumbered to the door.

Professor McGonagall had been dozing and Mr. Weasley reading the latest edition of the Daily Prophet, which he didn't enjoy doing in the least. But as it had been pointed out, it was one of the best ways to keep track of what the Ministry was doing—and wasn't doing. Which, depending on how it was read, wasn't a whole lot more than the production of hot air and creative writing jobs?

McGonagall rubbed her eyes and squinted in the direction of the door. The nap took her quite by surprise, and now she was hurrying to catch up. By then, Moody had opened the door allowing a large bearded man wearing shabby clothes and a wide-brimmed hat to enter.

_Hagrid? _McGonagall first came to mind, watching the scene. But the closer the newcomer came to the table, she could tell that he was no taller than Moody with a fluffy white beard, bushy gray hair tucked under a battered wide-brimmed hat as gray as the military surplus clothes he wore, carrying a slim box under one arm and his hat held in his other hand. _No, not Hagrid_, she realized, _the other American; Skywise._

"My apologies, "she quickly said, "I must have dozed off."

Moody's eye spun around in its socket. "The same Ministry people are still watching this place." He mentioned as Skywise placed the box on the table. "But still, Minerva, you need to be more careful."

"You could open a window." Skywise grumbled.

"It is a little thick in here." Mr. Weasley agreed, starting to rise. "Opening some of those windows on the ceiling should—"

"No." Moody leveled at him, halting him in movement. "I know your boys have what is deemed 'the best' in protective spells installed, but I'm not altogether certain of their effectiveness."

Skywise wanted to say something, yell something actually. Something with attitude, like _"Then go set up something better!"_, or _"Perhaps you have a better ideal?"_, but he kept it within. What he was seeing was the paranoia of the locals on vivid display before him, _don't trust, don't assume, don't hope…_A certain amount of it he could deal with, but this was becoming insufferable.

"Alastor, I'm quite certain that the Boy's have added a few…'special' touches of their own to the guardian spells." McGonagall gently directed to the scarred Auror. "If they didn't, I'd be both absolutely shocked and terribly disappointed in them…Arthur, please go ahead and open some of the windows…It is stuffy in here."

Moody scowled as Mr. Weasley went about with a long hooked pole, and soon after opening several of the paneled skylight windows the room had both a fresher feel and brighter appearance.

"Now then, "McGonagall then said, reaching for the box, "let's see what we have."

One by one each of the forgeries were examined for their clarity and reproduction of official seals, embossments, and fine printing that could only be viewed with the aid of a magnifying glass or magical eye. Each hand that handled them did so with extreme care, as if they could be forever damaged by a careless movement on their part. And as this went on, Skywise stood quietly and ever patiently waiting for their announcement—because if it didn't fool them, he figured, it wouldn't fool anybody.

After several tense minutes, where every document was passed around and examined, it was Mr. Weasley who broke the silence…

"Extraordinary!" He breathed in awe at what he held. "I would swear this came directly from the Auror's Office."

"It's passable. But, that depends upon who view it." Moody grumbled while looking down at his. "But if these get passed while Humble is on duty, then there'd be hell to pay."

"He retired last year, as I understand." Mr. Weasley mentioned.

"Knowing Rufus, he's probably on retainer." Moody muttered, and then turned to Skywise. "Meynard Humble, one of the best at spotting forgeries like these for the Department of Records and Gringotts Bank. Very unassuming in appearance, but possessing a sharp eye for fine detail that was hard to deny—or fool."

Skywise nodded, but didn't say anything.

"But with all certainty, Alastor, Scrimgeour may have him elsewhere." McGonagall stated, and to Skywise smiled, "These are exceptionally good, Sir. A job well done."

"Thank you." He modestly bowed, smiling back. "I always try my best."

It sounded rather cheesy, if not silly. It was rare that Skywise ever had to work 'up front' with the 'clients', he preferred to be in the background offering support and only stepping in when he deemed he was needed.

In fact, he was very uncomfortable with it.

But if it had to be done, he did it…

Now, if only Jay would call in.

A knock on the door behind them upset those thoughts.

And before anyone could think, Moody rumbled; "It's Bone's personal secretary, with Fred. Nobody else wondering' around downstairs, so it's safe to let them enter."

Which Mr. Weasley did just after they'd knocked for a second time. The ever fashionable Archer, in his sharp looking white suit and shiny black walking stick, smiled to him while removing his fashionable Panama hat upon entering the room.

"Mr. Weasley, I trust you're well this day."

"Oh, very well, Mr. Archer, very well. "Mr. Weasley nodded eagerly, "The forged documents are done, come and see."

Before following, Archer handed his fine Panama to Fred, who placed it on the coat rack, but kept his walking stick with him as he strolled up to the table.

"Fetching today, aren't we, Mr. Archer." McGonagall remarked.

"I like to look my best everyday, Professor." He smiled, "The Ambassador insists every member of his staff do so. It gives an air of professionalism."

_Still_, McGonagall wondered, _why dress like a Muggle all the time? _ But that was American business, and there were more important things to deal with.

"Very thoughtful of him." McGonagall replied, handing him a document. "Do you believe this will pass muster?"

Archer took the document with one hand while retrieving a pair of reading glasses from his suit-jacket with the other, after setting his walking stick against the table's edge, as Moody and Skywise looked on neutrally. Just as McGonagall did earlier, Archer scrutinized the paper he held quite closely from its very top to its absolute bottom with expert care.

Minutes later, he nodded his head. "Skillful…Very skillful. With a dash extra of aura, you can get anywhere with this."

We intend to get Mr. Potter, nothing more." McGonagall told him. "On that, we're still waiting word form Mr. Day."

"He shouldn't have too much trouble." Archer nodded understandingly while handing the document back to McGonagall. "The Historian he's posing as is a field agent for the Bureau's San Francisco Office, and is well aware of what's going on."

"Let's just hope Day doesn't do anything stupid." Moody added in. "Rufus isn't as stupid fool as you might think."

"I would have known by now if he did do something like that." Skywise put in right afterward. "But he knows what he's dealing with."

Archer concluded. "Mr. Day has a considerable track record."

"And," Skywise added lowly, folding his arms across his wide chest, "an attraction for trouble."

"Hopefully," Moody concurred, "it wont get the better of him."

McGonagall looked at Archer for a response to that. But the American Secretary was apparently considering that possibility himself.

7


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen.

Pain and Preparations.

Voldermort appearing right there, right then, right before him quiet surprisingly would be a welcomed break for Harry.

It was now three weeks, and in spite the welcomed calls from Day, McGonagall, Mr. Weasley, Fred, George, and Ginny, his spirits were declining steadily in the posh apartment. He did try, as they urged him, to figure out where he was within the Ministry—sights, sounds, even smells. It was rather silly, but Day assured him it wasn't, especially the part about the how fresh the flowers that were constantly being delivered to him were.

_"It all makes sense."_ Day told him over the cell phone. _"They're trying to keep you disorientated with the fragrance of the flowers. I'm betting that the way to you is quite musty."_

Well that was nice to know. Harry put it right up there with the return of his trunk, (without any spell books, money, or robes), Hedwig, who didn't appear too worse for ware but who's flying about the rooms of the apartment was beginning to annoy him…

But seeing his friends act in the way that they were, controlled by the Imperius Curse was the most painful thing he had to endure. Seeing them all happy, touting all the wonderful good that he was doing for the Ministry was cutting deeply into his soul and beyond. And standing behind them, Dolores Umbridge always with a sinister smile on her wide flat face directed at Harry when none of the three was looking as if daring him to try something—anything—or to simply establish the fact that there was nothing he could do at all to rescue them.

So the Cellphone became his only source of hope, but it could only last for so long. With each passing day, the will to lash out became even stronger than before. _How much more of this can I take?_, he wondered. _How much longer will I haft to keep entertaining Umbridge and the Ministry like this before I can be free? _Little by little, what resolve and self-control he retained was wearing away—pushing him, shaking, to the absolute brink of full-blown rage.

_How much longer will this go on?_

_"Harry, we're moving as fast as we can."_ Mr. Weasley told him during one late-night call, after Harry nearly took his head off with an angry assertion. _"We've pretty much figured you're being held in an old portion of the Ministry, that's been long closed off. Day is doing his best to find which section this is, but he's running a terrible risk while doing this—please give him time."_

Harry muttered out an apology of sorts, and then Mr. Weasley really gave him the bad news. _"With Molly under their control, they've pretty much know everyone connected with the Order--anyone with in the Ministry would, could help speed things along for you."_

_The Order_, yes he knew it. But it wasn't _the_ Order of the Phoenix that he knew, the one led by Dumbledore. No, this one was a _specially created_ force called into existence by Minister Scrimgeour with the duty of protecting Harry Potter at all times—it was in an issue of the _Prophet _from last week. After seeing that, he wanted to steer away from any further issues. But whenever Umbridge brought his friends, they'd always draw his attention to _The Prophet_ by gushing over what they had to say about the latest Ministry-led effort against The Dark Lord.

While Umbridge enjoyed herself tremendously the whole time.

So, by the time _that_ one call came just after bedtime, Harry was right ready to snap—and did when answering the Cell phone.

_"Hey, Harry! Easy now!"_ Day cried, recoiling from the onslaught on the other end.

_"Easy?"_ Harry nearly yelled back. _"Do you have any ideal what_ _I've been going through?"_

_"Plenty, because you've been telling us. But by this time tomorrow, you'll be scott free."_

Day's response, which he instantly deemed flippant, almost sent Harry over the edge and into the depths of unrestrained anger causing him to nearly hurtle the phone against the wall with all of the strength he could muster.

_"But by this time tomorrow, you'll be scott free…" _Recalling that stopped him.

_Escape…? _He was struck dumb by the realization, staring at the cell phone in his hand. _Tomorrow…?_

"To…marrow?" Harry managed to choke at the cell phone.

_"Yes Harry, tomorrow…"_

He could feel it growing quickly inside of him, that joy he'd so longed for to happen was about to happen. And was right ready to shout it out when Day stopped him with,

_"But…"_

_"But what?"_ Things were starting to collapse inside of him, _oh no not another delay_, he worried. There wasn't much more of this Harry could take.

_"When do they bring your friends around for a visit?" _Day asked. _"And how many are with them?"_

Harry's mind seemed to freeze up at that point, and had a devilish time trying to get it to function again so he could answer…

Of course, he had himself to blame for that—for not really paying attention to when they arrived. But it was usually after dinner, and just before bed…_Just when was that?_ Harry thought.

_"Harry?"_

"I'm thinking…Give me a minute, _please!_" Harry pleaded while forcing himself to think…

_"Just take your time, Harry. Try not to kill yourself."_

Harry had something to say about that, but snapped his mind back under his control. _After dinner, before bed…That was only a short time ago…_

"What time is it?" Harry hurriedly asked when the ideal seized him.

_"What?"_

_"What time is it now?" _Harry nearly shouted into the cell phone.

There was a moments pause, then, _"Nine-fifteen PM"_

It wasn't as late as Harry though. But now he had a clearer picture to work with, and started estimating while figuring time backwards in his head.

_Six or seven for dinner…Then if so, the visits occur probably at eight…_And went over it again for certainties sake.

"Between seven and eight o'clock in the evening." Harry answered, still unsure but it was the best he could do.

_"You're certain?" _

Harry wanted to say _'Yes."_, but wavered a little.

"As I figure." He answered instead.

More silence, then Day returned, _"Harry, we'll do it this way. Keep the phone with you, and call me when your dinner arrives. Or, if your friends arrive before dinner, make an excuse to go to the bathroom and call—got it?"_

"Yes." Harry nearly burst. "Run to the bathroom and call if they arrive first."

_"Excellent! Now, are they escorted—or do they come alone?"_

That was easier to answer…Very easy.

"Umbridge is with them. And sometimes, there's an Auror, or two, with her…"

And he realized something…_Why Umbridge? Why not Percy? _He would have been perfect for the sham Umbridge was putting on…Or, would he have objected?

He sat there wondering while Day called out to him with increasing urgency, until finally; _"HARRY!!"_

It jarred him from his thought of Percy, but in the way not intended. Harry thought that some Ministry official had walked in unannounced, causing him to quickly spin to the door with his heart pounding furiously away.

No one was there. Then Day yelled again from the Cell phone…

"I'm still here…" Harry sighed in relief. "Don't worry."

_I really couldn't blame Harry for being mad with us. But as a fundamental rule, all capers take time to properly form into a viable operation that can be carried off without a hitch—or disaster occurring._

_And we definitely didn't want this turning into a disaster. So, poor Harry had to wait nearly a month for us to come rescue him._

_But we weren't sitting down over tea either._

_Playing Historian, with Bone's help, got us the biggest break ever, along with Mr. Weasley's close friends in the Ministry who weren't secretly outted by Scrimgeour when he learned about the Phoenix Order. Between the old maps and their information, we had a very good ideal where Harry was being held; in what were formally suites reserved for visiting dignitaries during the 1880's which had fallen out of use when the current VIP Suites were built in the 1920's—that were oh so close to the Ministry's Storage area and Automobile Garage. _

_Very out of the way, but perfect for hiding. Bone figured Scrimgeour to be playing with a very pat hand. Keeping Harry out of the way like that enabled his ruse to work, without interference. And keeping the others under control helped keep Harry under control. This made it very important to know what time they visited. None of Weasley's friends knew where they were, and weren't in position to ask without raising suspicion. But from those friends, we had a very good understanding of the entire Ministry layout. Not only useful for escape but also to set up 'distractions'—nothing truly nasty, the twins could get their hands on a lot of wild fireworks when they weren't making some on their own._

_And what they also had in their Joke Shop proved to be helpful as well._

_Perhaps the most useful was what they called 'The Invisible Door Joke', simply put; it was a special sheet quite similar to an Invisibility Cloak which could be disguised to look like the wall around the door. Just imagine all the fun you could have setting one of those up over the bathroom door at the ball game. Even Alan Funt would have busted a gut laughing. They had ordered a modest amount of that expensive item, thinking that it would go over among the more cunning of their customers. But Voldermort returned and they were stuck with it…_

_I bought the entire stock. It'll come in handy at some useful date._

_But the most useful came from the Ministry itself; the clerk that routinely came around to purchase the shield apparel and pester the Twins into joining the Ministry. Of course, we couldn't use a Puppeteer on him, due to what we call in America a 'Screamer'—a nice little warning device set to detect weather or not the person wearing it was snagged by a Puppeteer and controlled by another. It doesn't really look all that noticeable; in this case it was a rather boring looking lapel pin the clerk wore. Of course, it doesn't go off when the curse is laid on the person—it goes off later, when they've returned to their own group. But it would have brought everything to a crashing end had Moody's not spotted it with his Eye just before we were about to stick a Puppeteer on him._

_"They're learning from the last time." Moody commented._

_But not enough; knowing these things, Skywise went the 'Jedi' route, foiling the Screamer and secured a hold over the Clerk's mind. So, if we needed him, we had him—and as a diversionary, he would work perfectly. And while pumping him for information, the Clerk revealed that one Percy Weasley had been recently transferred to the storage area…as a lowly inventory clerk._

_The same Percy Weasley who managed to alienate his Family by constantly toeing the Ministry line, even to the point of alienating himself from his Family, effectively done during the wedding of his older brother. Of course, upon hearing of their older brother's incredibly reduced status, Fred and George couldn't help but laugh—and quite loudly. While their Father just wore a grim look on his face, and shot Professor McGonagall's ideal of recruiting Percy right out of the sky._

_"I won't take the risk." He adamantly spat. "He may just take the opportunity to turn us all over to Scrimgeour in the hope he'll be granted something likeable in return."_

_It was hard for him to say it, in spite the anger. There was still something, hope, you might say, that he still clung to for his son. But if Percy traveled that far initially, even I would consider it hopeless to even attempt reconciliation at this time._

_I just hoped we wouldn't run into the boy._

_Going over the plan again and again was becoming tedious for the Twins, apparently they were 'natural studies'—as so judged by their inventiveness. Thankfully Professor McGonagall was able to twist their arms enough so that they complied with little whining to the contrary. Ginny, their little sister and youngest of the whole Weasley family, took a very serious attitude towards the matter to the point that she was going over everything she was to do on her own. _

_I would have preferred the children to stay with their Father and out of the way, but they were utterly committed and their father, along with McGonagall, Moody and Skywise, were going to enter through the supply area—where as I was going through the front door, with them. _

_No wonder why I was uneasy._

_But, there are those times when you must…_

_Fred was the first to go in, disguised as an elderly Scottish wizard with pronounced limp. Then twenty minutes later George made the attempt as a young, unblemished blond haired man seeking employment. And finally Ginny, with myself close behind as the Historian, as a plump little witch in need of dealing with her taxes._

_Trying not to look tense was an understatement, but there was no sign that the Twins had been caught. So I just ambled my way past the Auror's while heading down to the Records Hall, then when out of sight made my way to where the Office was._

_Mr. Weasley told us about it; it started out as a bottom floor washroom, at least it was when he started working for the Ministry, then a few years later it was converted into an Office for something (He couldn't rightly recall), and now it was a place for storing various items just to keep them out of the way. As it was not in an overly vital area, there were few Auror's and fewer people around it. And the Twins just about made me jump in surprise when they stepped out from behind the Invisible Door as I walked past._

_One worry done with. But more coming._

_With the Invisible Door in place and all inside, the Twins lead me carefully, by wandlight, through twistingly narrow ways bordered by dusty old boxes of whatever to where a very shoddy wall was that sealed off a shower room once apart of the original washroom._

_There was a rather large hole in the wall allowing access to the showers, where Ginny was getting herself ready._

"_It really didn't take too much effort." One of the twins told me while motioning to the hole._

"_Fred just looked at it and it caved in." The other one remarked, earning him a look from his brother._

_(Please forgive me, but there is no real way of telling Fred and George apart—they are identical right down to the freckles on their noses.) I really didn't care. Getting through that hole without the rest of the wall falling down was an adventure unto itself, but one managed once shorn of our robes. _

_As said, Ginny was already there. A long bag of necessary tools at her booted feet, anything else we had, wands, potions, assorted stuff, would be carried in the pockets of the black commando jumpsuits we wore under our robes—the soft boots we couldn't wear upon entering the Ministry because they'd stand out. The Twin's made short work on the rusted cistern in the floor with the crowbars, and flashing my special flashlight down the hold only revealed rust—no tell-tale green of a magical trap…_

_There was the smell of course. After a hundred odd years, what bubbled up was potent enough to kill anything if breathed long enough. What they called 'Bubble-head Charms' worked well enough for us to breathe in that sewer, but having to crouch due to the low ceiling would made it difficult for all of us._

_But then, nobody said it was going to be easy._

10


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen.

Underway.

If Harry felt awful before, it wasn't anywhere close to how he was feeling now.

He was anxious; he couldn't sit still for long. Repeatedly, he went to the door, hoping for a listen for any sound that indicated the approach of people. He repeatedly went to check his school bag, filled not with his school books but the more personal items; the album of his parents, the mirror Sirius gave him so they could communicate-- it's surface cracked from having thrown it in a tantrum, the toy soldiers on horseback with sabers raised high—that didn't interest Dudley at all, so he got them…

He didn't bother with the clothes, more reminders of that time. But the figures he kept, they were the only toys he had from the childhood spent in the cupboard. They were the only means he had of escape back then, before discovering what all the oddness surrounding him was…

And why they had been so mean to him for so long.

In all honesty, he couldn't throw the figurines away especially after they had helped him through so much. So he gently wrapped each one in toilet paper, and then wrapped the entire collection up in an old shirt before placing it in the bag with everything else.

As for Hedwig, Harry wondered if she'd willingly come back to her cage. Flying all around the room as she had been doing, and pouncing on the occasional mouse that happened to venture out of its hole at that bad time, she'd pretty much took a liking to the higher places of the apartment especially perching on the ceiling light fixtures. Not that he cared, back then, but now it was especially important that she be ready to leave with him. For as a trained owl, _his owl_, The Ministry could easily track wherever he went by the simple act of sending Hedwig with a letter for him.

That, he came up on his own. And wasn't about to leave to chance, or the Ministry to take advantage of.

But in spite the owl treats he had out, and all his pleading to her, Hedwig wasn't at all budging from her perch up on the hanging gas-light. All she did as Harry tried to coax her down was to look while clicking her beak at him rather disdainfully.

_Of all the…_Harry wanted to curse. It wouldn't have done much to bring Hedwig down, but it would have made the monster within feel better…

And that's when a knock came from the apartment's front door.

For a brief moment, he believed that it was his friends coming for him. Then he remembered Dinner hadn't been served yet, and froze facing the door with dread across his face.

The door opened, and in entered Ron and Hermione with unnatural smiles and expressions on their faces, followed by Mrs. Weasley who was in adamant discussion with Dolores Umbridge.

"Hiya Harry, what's up?" Hermione chirped in greeting.

"Ya, you're surprised." Ron quickly added in. "Were you expecting somebody else?"

Well Harry was, but he quickly gave a better answer; "I was expecting dinner."

"Oh well, we decided to come early today." Hermione replied.

And from behind then, Dolores Umbridge smiled…

The narrow alleys of London weren't made for anything wider than a push cart, especially the closer they came to where the Ministry was. There, rubbish bins were simply carted to a special spot where the garbage men dealt with them and later they were carted back by their owners.

Skywise drove his LTD Wagon as far as he could down those narrow affairs, and when he could go no further without raising attention to everyone with him—they were three blocks from the entry to the Ministry's storage entrance.

"How do you plan on dealing with the car?" Mr. Weasley had asked Skywise, when everyone; Professor McGonagall, Moody, himself and Skywise, had exited it.

Skywise didn't answer the question. He just raised his hand and the LTD shrank down to the size of a child's toy that he quickly slipped into the pocket of his coat and joined McGonagall and Moody at the entrance to the narrow alley.

"You're positive there's no guards present?"

Moody shook his head. "None…Not even hidden."

McGonagall turned to Mr. Weasley. "There's a problem, Arthur. The Guards aren't at their posts as far as Alastor can tell, is there another way into the Ministry?"

"There would be numerous entrances." Mr. Weasley explained. "But each one would be watched."

"Then why isn't this one being watched?" Moody asked.

"It probably is." Skywise injected, gazing critically down the alley.

Moody gazed at him wonderingly as they all did. But, he was the first to realize what the American was getting at.

"Wards?"

Skywise nodded, "Why waste manpower guarding a door."

"But why expend such energy on guarding a door like that?" Mr. Weasley questioned. "There should be at least two guards behind the door."

"Or," McGonagall added, "It's designed to either confound the expecting or entrap the foolish."

Moody gazed at Skywise in an agreeing way while Mr. Weasley was at a loss for words.

"So we stand out here, spinning our wheels, debating weather or not there is a hazard guarding that door." Skywise frowned.

McGonagall just nodded to him.

"Do you have a suggestion?" Moody asked her.

"I'd like to see this from a different perspective." McGonagall replied, and then started down the alley. "Excuse me, Gentlemen." She added…

Then transfigured into a cat.

_The old sewer snaked around, usually in places where the muck was up to our waist, with various things floating in it I'd rather not dwell on. And parts were the only way through was to belly crawl—usually through such muck, with even more evil things floating in it. If it wasn't for the Map, we would be lost._

_The Sweep Spell of one of the Twins worked on what stuck to our suits, but I pretty much figured by the time we reached the bars we were all stinking to high heaven._

_Gotta hand it to the English; their ideal of 'closing off access' is to set heavy iron bars across the particular access. Not exactly troublesome, but really lacking in practicality. _

_Or was it._

_A thief has to expect anything—it's a must that's unarguable. Some of the most diabolical traps I've ever seen were of such simple appearance; you wouldn't have figured it was a trap until it was way too late. And with magical places, one had to really be careful with their ability or get trapped…_

_Which is why I stopped one of the Twins from simply blasting the bars down. _

_Methane gas was another factor. We weren't wearing bubble-head charms for cuteness, nor do I care to go out with a fiery bang._

"_You think it might be a trap?" Ginny asked me._

_I fished out the flashlight, playing its light along the bars. The dull-green that reflected back at me was from magical wards not properly maintained since their setting, weak but still containing a punch. I see similar patches along the walls and floor beyond the bars as far as the light can shine…_

_But where the bars are set into the ceiling and floor there is nothing showing, not even the faintest glimmer. And the bricks were set rather shoddily in place._

_Interesting…_

"_So," one of the Twins asked, "do we pull down the bars?"_

"_You really want to grab a handful, don't you?" I remarked back. "Gimme a crowbar, and cover your eyes."_

_There was some swinging room, not as much as I wanted. But the bricks in question didn't give much of a fight. Each with a cloud of powdery mortar surrendered its position with every blow, until the tops of the bars were left exposed. It was the same with their bases, but I didn't go as far as to remove that much of the brick flooring—I just wanted enough of it gone so that the bars tilted towards us. As long as we didn't touch them, we were fine._

_A tight squeeze later, we were past and carefully picking our way around the various other traps in the tunnel beyond._

"We came early because of that important meeting you'll be having with the Ministers from several other countries." Hermione cheerfully explained while adding crème to her tea. "Minister Scrimgeour won't say what it's for, except that it's all very important."

"Hush-hush." Ron piped in before sipping his own tea with casual air. "Scrimgeour's a good man. He'll make the Dark Lord regret ever returning."

"You forgot about Harry, Ron." Hermione smiled to him, "He's leading the effort to end this menace once and for all."

It was like being forced to watch a very bad movie, Harry wanted to leave but he couldn't—he had to sit there. He had to stall, but how to do it while not appearing anxious had him going in circles while sitting with them on the leather sofa, sipping tea and eating pastries while Mrs. Weasley and Umbridge were chatting and giggling away in their own separate world.

_Relax_, he told himself as his mind raced for a plan…_Don't panic…_

And discovered the oblivious…

"Um…At what time is this meeting taking place?" Harry innocently asked.

Both Ron and Hermione looked at him in surprise.

"I've been…distracted." Harry sheepishly began. "Hedwig…trying to get her to come down…I forgot."

_Gauging from how long it's been there, especially where it has been all this time, the door was still in remarkable shape. It was still solid, but when one of the Twins tried the door, the latch snapped off._

_As for the rest of it, the wrought-iron hinges, rivets, and strips proved to be extremely formable. This was a door that was meant to be a barrier in every sense of the word; not impossible to breech, just time consuming as we stretched the door's frame outwardly with expanding rods in its center, top and bottom. It didn't take too long to teach the Twins how to use a wrench to work the rods, magic was still preferred but that meant noise—lots of loud noise._

_We were ten minutes a head of tea time, and hoped that everything was going well._

"It's at seven, Harry." Hermione helpfully told him…

Then looked at her watch, and gasped "That's in fifteen minutes from now. We'd better leave, or we'll be late."

And Harry hurried to think of something else to say…To keep them still.

Stray cats in central London aren't all that unusual.

There were usually several that hung around the Ministry's rear door, waiting for kitchen scraps or affection from the person taking out the trash. Occasionally, one would manage to slip inside especially if the weather was cold. Of course, the animal was usually quickly caught and expelled.

But the particular tabby that darted in, while the latest from the kitchen was being disposed of, proved to be particularly evasive to the Kitchen crew assigned to capturing it. Usually it would be a Guard or Auror doing the duty, but they were assigned elsewhere for some special happening leaving several posts vacant occupied by temporaries with only the barest of training and the simplest of orders; let no one in. Of course, no one was going to use those entrances that day. The people who would be were already inside, and wouldn't be leaving for quite some time. And as for those positions left vacant, the locks were quite formable and would give warning if anyone tried tampering with them.

McGonagall stayed clear of those, there was no way to get at the keys in the Guard's Station. So, she went to one Guard Post that was occupied by a youth too busy with the contents of the _Quibbler _to pay much attention to the Cat that padded up to him, sit near his feet and look at him for a few moments…

And it was way too late to act when the Cat became Professor McGonagall and knocked him unconscious with a wordless stun spell. Quickly, she unlocked the door with the Guard's keys and peered down the alley.

Moody appeared from around the corner three blocks away.

When she motioned, the men linked arms and aspirated to her once and quickly entered the building. And before too long, they were through the Storage area and walking down a narrow corridor that would lead to a hall just outside of the area where Harry was being kept…

And were stopped.

There were a few wizards and witches just milling about in that Hall, ideally talking or sitting on benches reading the Daily Prophet or some other paper. But there were enough, and spaced out far enough apart, to make simply walking across to the door on the other side impossible without being seen. To make matters worse, both Moody and Mr. Weasley pointed out various senior Aurors and two Hit Wizards among those present.

"So much for easy." Skywise grumbled.

"We could aspirate." McGonagall suggested, but Mr. Weasley shook his head.

"That is only allowed by a few, and it would be detected." He hurried explained, the suggested to Skywise, "We could set off the fireworks, or you can try one of your 'Jedi' tricks to get us past."

"Too much area to cover." Skywise simply told him.

"And if we make a disturbance now, Rufus will know something's up and arrive here in force." Moody lowly growled.

"We don't have much time left in either case." McGonagall stated, "So we must take the chance."

Skywise brightened…

"No we don't." He told them. "We can make time."

McGonagall blinked wonderingly at him as he extended his hand towards her.

"Take my hand." He said quietly. "Everyone hold hands…"

If he were somebody else, they would have argued instead. But after seeing this grubby American work magic, both with enchanted Muggle items and without a wand, there was a certain amount awe and wonder as to what he could do…

And none of them had any better ideals for dealing with the situation they faced.

When all held the other's hand, Skywise closed his eyes and started to mutter so softly they couldn't hear what was being said…

And soon all sound around them began to slow down considerably to a soft hum.

Moody's magical eye moved wildly in its socket as he stood with a perplexed expression on his face.

"Everyone's slowing down…" He perplexedly muttered.

"Stay with me and don't let your had slip from the other's grasp." Skywise directly told them. "Or you'll slip back into normalcy."

He boldly stepped out into the Hall, and both McGonagall and Mr. Weasley could see what so startled Moody. Everyone standing there was frozen in motion: speaking, gesturing, or sitting, none moved a minute inch as the four walked brazenly and in hand across the Hall to the door. By the time Skywise had the door open and ushering them in, McGonagall figured out what was happening.

"You've stopped time." She uttered in amazement.

The American didn't answer at first, and didn't release his hold until the door was closed. But Mr.Weasley did, and proved McGonagall's theory by himself and Moody freezing in place when they broke away from the group.

"It's highly advanced magic." Skywise groaned slightly, steadying himself against a near-by wall. "It takes a lot to do it…It takes a lot out of you."

He didn't seem too able to move at the moment, but when Moody suddenly exclaimed, "Day's here, and so is Umbridge!" Skywise became quite alive and followed Moody and Mr. Weasley in a staggered trot.

"You really don't haft to leave. I mean, with Scrimgeour's help, you could watch me from behind the stage."

Harry was rapidly running out of ideals for keeping his friends from leaving the suite, and Umbridge was starting to steer them towards the door.

"Now Harry, we mustn't wear on the Minister's time or generosity." She replied. "You need to get ready for your speech to the foreign ministers."

"Hey, don't worry, mate." Ron grinned. "We'll all be in the front row, cheering you on."

"Yes, yes, that's quite right." Umbridge agreed, moving them closer to the door.

Harry could tell it was hard for her to keep the pleasantness up for very much longer, any more pressure and she would break…

So he darted to the door, blocking it as he suggested, "Why don't we all go together? I mean—"

"Potter." Umbridge frowned.

"it'll look great, all of us going up there…

"Potter..."

Umbridge was starting to growl.

"me with my closest, dearest friends at my side. It would be the perfect photo opportunity…"

Ron, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley all looked slightly dull at him while Umbridge toadish face took on such a reddish hue he Harry hadn't seen since Uncle Vernon last yelled at him…

In fact, she looked very likely to do the same to him right there.

"_Get away from the door, Potter…" _She angrily grated at him.

Harry matched her stare with a defiant one.

From the other side of the door, he could hear familiar yelling.

"What are you doing to do, Umbridge?" He said it slowly, deliberately to her.

_NOW!_ It exploded inside of him, and he whirled, opening the door with one motion and darting into the outside corridor…

Right into Day, who grabbed him and shoved him against the wall.

"_Potter you cannot esc—"Umbridge_ shrieked in pursuit, until she encounter McGonagall with Moody standing with their wands leveled and ready.

McGonagall especially, with a look of intense anger.

"_Umbridge."_ She bitterly spat, before she and Moody launched a thick purple beams from their wands that threw Ministry Official violently back through the doorway of the suite.

12


	17. Chapter 17

Seventeen.

Flight.

The main Auditorium was large as large could be, and still they were having trouble seating all the foreign dignitaries, representatives, and news reporters from all over the Wizarding World (either with camera operators in tow or carrying their own, and some with rather bulky wire and even bulkier wax cylinder recorders). Aurors', Hit Wizards, and Ministry Guards moved all around viewing the crowd with cautious eyes for any sign of trouble while Ministry volunteers did their best to usher and sit people down where ever an open spot was available or not taken.

But Scrimgeour wasn't preoccupied with the headaches of such logistics, that was a matter for the Office of Faculty Services to deal with--though he'd hear about any complaints soon enough. His concerns were on the Faux-Potter, sitting before him meekly looking in the Wardrobe room with Prefit and six highly trusted Senior Aurors—the only ones who really knew outside of Fudge and Umbridge what was really going on.

"Now remember; stay with what you have on the scrolls, and keeping acting as you have been." Scrimgeour told the Faux-Potter. "I'll expect no more, no less from you—understand?"

The Faux-Potter meekly nodded. Loyalty was a matter Scrimgeour never took for granted, owing to past experiences and the Imperius Curse one had to be very certain about where and whom they placed their trust—especially now-a-days. And the Minister of Magic was being especially careful with his trust. Metamorphmagus' were rare and special enough. But there were too few available within the Ministry to be used for what Scrimgeour wanted to do…

Fortunately though, this particular Metamorphmagus was available due to rather 'personal' secrets. And Scrimgeour easily took advantage of those facts. But every so often, it was necessary to remind the person of those secrets. And what it could mean if they became known.

"Give a good show…And I may consider a visit." Scrimgeour smiled. "This is very important for all of us."

McGonagall slowly lowered her wand, still with that angry expression on her face. Harry had never seen her like that before, even when she was angry with him.

Then, Mr. Weasley came rushing past in a blur breaking the spell with Fred and George close behind. Moody lumbered up to McGonagall, while a portly and somewhat shabby wizard with a large hat and puffy white beard slipped past them and into the suite.

Day stepped back, and McGonagall, now calmer, faced Harry.

"I trust you are alright, Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded, but said nothing.

"Sorry we took so long." Ginny's familiar voice came from his right. Harry wasn't surprised at all to see her here, but what did surprise him was the dark jumpsuit she was wearing—a smaller copy of what Day was wearing, minus the handgun in the built-in shoulder holster.

Ginny simply smiled back up at him.

"We'll need to hurry." McGonagall urgently told Day. "Umbridge will soon be missed."

"That was a little excessive." Day remarked both to her and Moody.

A cruel smile formed on McGonagall's face.

Moody just frowned back.

Day then turned to Harry.

"You got anything that needs to come with you?" he asked.

Harry snapped into action, "My School bag, in the bedroom."

"Good, let's get it."

Day ushered him along into the suite at a hurried pace. But near the bedroom, Harry paused and looked back—only because he didn't see the others where he left them while bolting from the room.

"Harry, come on!" Day sharply nudged him onward, pushing him into the bedroom.

But Harry had seen enough…

Mrs. Weasley lying on the floor, her eyes closed.

Dolores Umbridge was a stickler for time. Even Scrimgeour had on those few occasions run afoul of her whenever he was late for a meeting she was chairing. Ever the stickler, she would arrive an hour ahead of time—hours if the meeting was an important one.

Scrimgeour had already addressed the packed Auditorium, and was now off stage watching as the Faux-Potter addressed the assembly with great accomplishment. But Ambridge's absence was glaring, making him wonder where she was with Potter's friends. Four seats in the middle of the very first row went unfilled, and Scrimgeour glanced from entrance to entrance wandering if they were late…

Finally he decided something was wrong, a made a subtle gesture with his lowered left hand to the senior Auror at stage left…

_I know it's rough, seeing your close friends all laid out like that. But this wasn't the time to stand gawking as they were being loaded into the back of the Anti-Christ._

_We figured five minutes, give or take a minute or two, to get in, get Harry, and get underway back through the sewer in the vehicles before trouble began. And certainly we were right; Harry mentioned something about a big meeting, that's why his friends were here early—with the now flattened Umbridge. No doubt she would be expected at that meeting…_

_And she was._

_Moody and McGonagall rushed into the suite slamming the door behind them, just as we were ready to go._

_"Auror's, outside!" Moody barked, holding the door closed, which set off a flurry of "What to do's?" until McGonagall barked at everyone to shut up._

_"I guess that means we improvise." Skywise grinned at me._

_Figuring the Sewers were cut off to us, I guess it did. Only I had a really bad feeling of what Sky was going to do. Anti-Christ revving up its massive engine only made it worse._

_But I didn't have much chance to argue. Already, the fireworks would be going off allover the Ministry. Moody jammed the door with a spell as McGonagall quickly slid into Tamm. Harry and Ginny were in the back seat, and as soon as Moody clambered into the front seat of the Anti-Christ Sky lit up its engine to the sound of Jerry Lee Lewis banging away at a piano._

_And smashed right through the front wall… _

_With us right behind._

The first explosions threw great streamers of bright gold and silver sparks from rubbish bins and potted plants located along the various public corridors, offices, even bathrooms. Then came the Dung Bombs, which filled the air in the corridors, offices, and a few other less public areas throughout the whole Ministry with their horrendous contents in such large quantities that made all coming in contact very ill.

And then the skyrockets. They went off everywhere, filling the air with multitudes of bright flashing colors and vibrant streams of red, blue, green, yellow, and other colors that left spots before the eyes of those seeing them. This was prevalent in the Auditorium, and along with the occasional Dung Bomb, Sparklers, Fire Fountain, and Super-Pop turned the entire room into a caldron of shocked and panicky wizards either trying to stand with wands in hand to fight off this sudden menace or make a break for the nearest exit.

In all this confusion, Scrimgeour stood on the stage yelling orders at the top of his lungs to anyone who'd listen. _"Clear this Hall! Alert St, Mungo's and seal off all exits in the Ministry!!"_

Standing there, he looked every bit as commanding as a Minister should be in such trying times. But with in, Scrimgeour was plainly worried about one thing and one thing only…

The real Harry Potter.

The Senior Auror in the lead was a man with a multitude of scars, but few on his face since he had many of those taken care of at St. Mungo's, No need walking around looking worse than those foolish enough to fight him. And especially no need scaring the daylights out of people, as some Auror's were prone to do by not _properly_ tending to their injuries—choosing to instead wear them like some badge of honor.

But he kept one or two on his face, just to show that they were there.

Now, he and four of the Trusted were carefully, but hurriedly, moving in the darkened corridor that wound through the disused visitor suites. Missing most of the excitement occurring throughout the Ministry, they quickly rushed to the one still used suite with a whole spellbook of combat curses and counter-curses dancing in their heads for ready use…

Then they herd the roar. Certainly not an animal, not at that tone.

Then the crash of something bashing down the wall, where they all knew Potter was.

The Senior cursed. "Stand firm and shift so the other can perform—"

Suddenly, what was once a Ford LTD Station Wagon from Detroit, Michigan, blasted right through the wall behind them, knocking them all down in a hail of choking mortar, brick, various woods and other objects…

Followed close by a smaller vehicle with Harry Potter in the rear seat looking anything but pleased to be escaping in that manner.

_Gotta hand it to Skywise; let nothing stand in the way._

_With the protectives he's placed on the Anti-Christ, it can very much go One-on-One with an entire U.S. Marine Corps Armored Division and scrape em'. So crashing through the apartments was nothing, since he was the one doing it –we just followed._

_Originally, we would have shrunk down and flown through the sewer back to the disused bathroom, then be carried out on my pocket. But plans, no matter who or what makes them, are often subject to change—rude or otherwise. So I guess this is the way we'll go, blasting through one more wall and roar through the very heart of the Ministry of Magic._

_Not what I'd want to do, but it's Sky's show. I just wondered if Sky was howling like a madman, as he is prone to do at such times. I was really afraid for those with him, since they'd think he'd gone nutso—or maybe worse. But then, when the chips are down going gonzo has its merits._

_I just hope he doesn't kill someone in the process…_

_Maybe I should have been a little clearer with my warnings._

_But I do know where he's going; to the nearest station of fireplaces that service the Foo Network, some two-hundred yards away if the maps were right, by the most direct route possible—right through the Ministry._

_So, as I follow the Anti-Christ up a particularly attractive wooden grand staircase, I hear Harry exclaim behind me, "Percy! He's back there!"_

_McGonagall turns in her seat just as much as Ginny has, trying to get a view out through the rear window. I'm too busy dodging all manner of wizards and witches and what they are throwing at us as the scramble like mad to get out of the way. Some hit, and Tamm yells. Thankfully most of them there flinging what ever they can can't hit the side of a wall they were standing against, but then there's fireworks going off all over the place—skyrockets, smoke bombs, whatever the Twins had in their Shop all blending together in very surrealistic ways all around us along with the sudden shock of keeping out of the way of two cars racing through the place does help a lot. _

_I really couldn't have spared the time thinking about the wayward Weasley, sliding around as we were on the tiled flooring at Seventy-five with everything going on takes a lot of skill to maintain control—even of a magiced car. Bouncing up and down stairwells, making sharp turns, all the while taking the occasional spell hit that would almost send Tamm into a skid or spin. She didn't have the Anti-Christ's mass or weight, or the occasional habit of rearing up on it's huge rear wheels and spit fire from it's underside while crinkling it's front downward a bit while flapping its hood open and closed like some kind of rolling monster—scaring people out of the way._

_Oh, I could just imagine what was going through the minds of those with him._

_But I had my own fish to fry. I made Tamm fire her weaponry over the heads of those seeking to stop us—but just close enough to make them duck as the Stun shots passed overhead in great furious swarms. I don't need running over helpless people, if you know what I mean_

_Right turns, left turns—damnit Sky, do you really know where you're going?_

_I was right ready to yell in the radio that very question to him when his voice came through to me loud and clear; "Hundred feet to go—Number Four Privet Drive!"_

"_Did I hear correctly?" McGonagall exclaimed to me, particularly after filching when several small potted plants hit the windshield._

_At our speed, there was no time to answer. A hundred feet vanished instantly and we were in a short corridor lined on either side with grand stone fireplaces with roaring fires in each of them. Sky had spun the Anti-Christ sideways roaring nose-first towards one fireplace, while one of the twins leaned out the right rear window aiming that god-almighty M79 Grenade Launcher or Sky's towards the fire. The twin yelled, fired the M79, discovering what a painful experience it is to do so when the recoil bounced the massive gun off his face (because he was holding it wrong) while the canister of Foo Power went streaming into the fire. _

_He and the Launcher were pulled into the Wagon just as it dove nose first into the fireplace…Vanishing into the flames._

_Now it was our turn. I spun Tamm towards the nearest fireplace as she readied her forward mortars…_

"_Wait!" yelled McGonagall. _

_But we were too far along to stop, and dove in yelling the address…_

_Oh it would be a wonderful night. A very great night in deed._

Vernon Dursley was practically bursting with pride, standing outside his home at Number Four Privet Drive in his very best, as the guests arrived in their expensive cars—much to the neighbors surprise and envy. He really didn't care much for or about them at the moment, or what they were thinking. Having just nailed that account with Ridgemon International Manufacturing, Grunnings was already set to enter the International Hardware and Supply market with a tremendous splash. Tonight was only the final capper to that multi-Billion dollar deal, engineered with decisive cunning by both Vernon Dursley and his son Dudley, currently being gone over by his mother in the house.

Only eighteen, and already a millionaire. Dudley could barely contain himself that night.

For once, just this glorious once, he was going to catapult himself beyond the realm of that office he had into a room that was far larger, far more impressive, and far more astute than he ever had at Grunnings—and it was going to be done right, _oh so very right!_

And without Harry Potter around to ruin anything, like the last time.

That made it all the more special; no more interference, no more excuses…

No more misery, not ever again.

Oh never again. No more magic, or owl, or worrying whatever came to their door—because the cause of it all was no longer there anymore.

Yes, _he_ was gone, _and gone for good!_

So it was with a merry attitude and a wide smile on his face that Vernon Dursley, with his family in tow, approached the President of Grunnings Drills and Machinery to greet him fully—

When something large, with no one particular color scheme, exploded out through the front of his home. _A car?_ _Yes, it was a car_, the little voice that Vernon Dursley herd clearly in his head over the roar the multi-colored thing made, flying across his well kept lawn and into the parked assembly of expensive coupes and sedans all parked innocently at the curb pulverizing three of them instantly—including the brand new Rolls Royce sedan of the company's President. Then, a smaller customized erupted through what was left of the Dursley home in an equally spectacular fashion, flying across his lawn like the first and managing to destroy what the first car failed to hit.

As Vernon Dursley stood there, watching the cars race off into the night after crunching a hapless police car between them, as his house behind him simply started crumbling to ruin from sustaining too much damage while his Wife and Son stumbled out in a disheveled mess…

Vernon Dursley had only one remaining recourse at his disposal at that horrible moment.

He fainted.

10


	18. Chapter 18

Eighteen.

Beginnings of Things.

Fireworks, Dung Bombs, and whatever else still continued going off throughout the Ministry, and worse panic ruled in several areas—resulting in those who feared the worse shooting off every curse and hex they knew in blind panic when they perceived someone approaching them.

But that wasn't as bad when compared to the sheer amount of calamity that occurred; there wasn't a single office, department, storage room, bathroom, or cloak closet that wasn't somehow touched by all of the pyrotechnics. That in its self left many Ministry officials absolutely dumbfounded and amazed as to how it could happen--especially in the Ministry of Magic, which was by all measure protected by highly formable wards from magical attack.

Even Scrimgeour was at a loss.

But there was order that needed to be restored, and he issued that command directly to any Auror and Official--no matter how minor they were. Order was going to be restored, one floor at a time and by whatever means necessary to get it done quickly.

It was the only way to salvage some good from the face of this massive embarrassment.

And for Scrimgeour, the worse lay in an old disused area most at the Ministry didn't know about, or had forgotten. It was the very first place he aspirated to once matters in the Auditorium were safely under control.

The hole in the wall was massive, like the yawning entrance to a cave with various sized chunks of wall and broken furniture strewn all over the floor before it.

Some were gathered around the entrance, helping dust covered Senior Aurors out from the gaping entrance. And that told the Minister his worst fears were true; _Harry Potter was free!_

And everything he had hoped for was suddenly very, very far away…

"Sir…"

And in shambles…_Damn you Potter! You and your friends have wrecked everything!!!_

_"Sir…"_

It was one of those annoying things, probably a reporter—local from the sound of his voice. But keep calm, Scrimgeour told himself, don't yell…

It was Percy Weasley. He was gazing directly into the Minister's face very knowingly.

"I saw what happened." Percy directly said to Scrimgeour, but in a voice that was low enough that only he could hear. "I saw everything…_everything_."

_Everything_…The words went right deeply in the Scrimgeour's being, leaving little to do…

And less to try.

The Constables, surviving the smashing of their patrol car on Privit Drive, gave detailed descriptions of who did it to them and the direction they were heading in, this resulted in the quick creation of several roadblocks in and around the area that left traffic snarled up in very impossible ways.

The Police were looking in heated earnest for two cars, a coupe, already being looked for in London for numerous traffic violations, and a tricked out saloon which, as so described, would easily stand out anywhere. They hadn't found them, but they were making every effort to. The roadblocks arranged so that large trucks, delivery vehicles, buses, taxis and other vehicles that weren't privately or Government 'Official', could quickly go around and be on their way.

Except for a very inconspicuous and quite large Bedford Lorry, with no company marking being driven by a very pale and dowry red-headed woman whose high forehead was mostly covered by the black cowboy hat cocked on her head—from which trailed the smell of pizza.

Since it wasn't what they were looking for, the Pizza-smelling Bedford was waved on by Constables not really knowing any better.

Fred had been keeping a very careful watch in the rear-most trailer, while carefully holding his slice of combination pizza in hand. Once they were past the last stop, he turned back at the others just as the Bedford's driver turned the overhead light on.

He looked utterly exhausted tramping back to Tamm.

"Wonder how many more of those we haft to deal with." He grumped, while sitting down next to George.

"If the Police calls were correct, that was the last one on this road before hitting the Motorway." Day replied before taking a bite of his pepperoni and sausage pizza. "After that, it's thirty minutes to London—and on to our next leg."

Fred and George weren't all together excited; they were too depressed and worried for their Mother. George had the additional matter of his nose swelling, where the grenade launcher struck him very unexpectantly—leaving him in a miserable state of having to deal with the throbbing pain by pressing an ice bag against the area. And, though Harry knew they'd never admit it openly, they were also worried about Ron as well. There wasn't much more than to sit and wait, which they and Ginny hated doing, while wondering what was going on up ahead in the Bedford where the others were.

And Harry himself wasn't much better, in spite being rescued.

But Day had told them it was better they'd stay out of the other's way. Doc needed room to work, and didn't take kindly to interruptions when he was doing so.

Almost appearing like the wizard Harry came to know as Skywise, Doc was a soft spoken heavy-set man with a brown van-dyke bearded salted with touches of gray—either that or he was trying to grown an actual beard, and only that part around his mouth actually succeeded in becoming anything. Canvas shoes, tan cargo pants, jacket and military soft cap, with some emblem that was hidden in shadow, gave this American wizard a much better chance of moving among Muggles without attracting notice—as opposed to his companion, 'Dolly', who was driving the truck they were in. Her Cowboy attire consisting of a black cowboy hat and long duster coat, with seriously torn blue jeans and a red shirt that exposed her midriff—add the pearl handled chrome single-action colt revolver she had tucked in her waist and along with the two in holsters strapped to her thighs there'd be no way she could avoid attracting attention…

But then, she gave the impression that she could care less about what others thought of her appearance. And if anyone tried, she'd deal with them in a none too pleasant way.

Harry shook his mind free of that image. He wanted to focus on the current, the present.

The mess and calamity they left behind at the Ministry would definitely make them all fugitive. Weither or not Scrimgeour would risk exposing the fraud of the phony Potter wasn't the question, but it would certainly give the Minister a great deal of leverage against Harry if any involved in his rescue were captured. The shock waves of tonight's events would travel far and wide throughout the whole Wizarding community. Harry wondered if he could even get help for his cause, even if he exposed himself and what was really going on in the Ministry to the World at large.

Then there was the Dursley's, and what happened to their home. It flashed past once they left the Foo Network in a blur of wood , stucco, and assorted broken furniture and bricks—followed the sounds of metal being crushed, Harry wasn't altogether sure but he did see the Police Car being crushed between Tamm and the Anti-Christ while holding on to Ginny in the backseat. Not that he cared about his abusive relatives anymore, but McGonagall was utterly vivid with George about where they exited from the Network as the twin painfully nursed his face. But didn't say anything as she with the others headed towards the truck, while Day went with the others in the trailer.

At least there was food waiting. Harry was given two pizzas, a litter of soda, and told by Day to go have some fun with Ginny. The thief didn't mean to embarrass him, though Harry felt his face get a little hotter than normal because Ginny was eyeing him in that certain way while her brothers grinned teasingly. Of course, she being in that outfit made Harry realize that there was even more to Ginny Weasley than he'd ever realized and while at the front of the trailer Harry felt freed from the concerns that bound him down.

Until in the midst of enjoyment, the memory rudely charged right back…

_Horcruxes._

He hadn't thought of those four items in a long time, too much was occurring dragging him off in directions incredible if not astounding. Now free, he wanted to get back to tracking then down, to destroy the portions of Voldermort's soul they contained…

"Harry…" Ginny nudged his arm, snapping his thoughts.

Blinking in surprise, he turned to Ginny.

"You're spilling on Tamm." She pointed out.

A sizable gooey wad of yellow cheese and pepperoni slices had slid off the crust he absently held onto Tamm's right rear fender, and was slowly sliding downward to the floor.

Harry looked at it dumbly as Ginny frowned at him.

"You really ought to pay more attention to things, than just standing around daydreaming." She flatly whispered to him.

He wanted to say something back, something as to what he was thinking of. But the urge faded quickly, and instead started scraping the wad off the car with the crust of his pizza and a spare napkin before it traveled too much further.

_Luckily, Tamm didn't blow a gasket over the drippings. Otherwise, Harry would have been in a real fix. And in the confines of the trailer, all of us would have found ourselves involved._

_Anyway, Ginny was doing her part by handling Harry—leaving me to tend to her mopey brothers._

_Mopey's too harsh a word—they were flat worried. You couldn't blame them._

_And it wasn't because of McGonagall's chewing them out. Nor concern for George's nose, which finally enabled me to finally tell them apart._

_They'd been on edge ever since finding out that their Mother and little brother were under the control of a Puppeteer, seeing them as zombies must have put them over the edge. _

_They had to have been the ones to have put them down. And that had to be eating away at them._

_Seeing mopey people really wears me out. Trying to speak with them in that state made it a real challenge. _

_But before I could start, one of the brother's turned to me; "Doc will take care of them, right?"_

_It caught me in a loop for a few moments. But I was able to send back a polite response that I hoped was reassuring to them, at least to lift their spirits._

"_Doc's good, and he'll do what he can for them…He wont lie or deceive you with false promises and such."_

_He can break a Puppeteer; it's no sweat for his Angel of Mercy Stand. So by the time we reached the London warehouse, I expected to see three slightly wobbly people emerging from the Bedford. _

_There weren't, beyond those I knew where there with them. _

_None of them looked happy at all. Especially Doc who was moving towards us with a frown that said everything was bad, very bad._

"_You figured this Umbridge had your friends under her control, correct?" he directly asked Harry, before any of us ever got a word off._

_Harry is slightly taken back, but mostly is stunned by Doc's straight-forward manner. Still he manages a "Yes" of sorts._

"_What's wrong?" Ginny gets in before I could ask the same thing._

_It takes a moment for Doc to compose himself. "The Mother and Son have suffered minor brain damage. Nothing serious and they should be fine after therapy…But, the Girl took a serious hit…"_

_She had to have fought back._ It was the only conclusion Harry could come up with after Doc explained the existent of Hermione's brain injuries. Though he could visualize the body's most important organ, the American medical wizard easily lost him on the descriptions he gave; _numerous areas of fried nerve connections in both the Cortex and Frontal Lobe regions, as if she tried to mentally resist the application of a Puppeteer Control Spell…_

"The Frontal Lobe controls reasoning, planning, emotions, speech and movement." Doc, a slightly heavy-set middle-aged man with gray creeping into his short brown hair and van-dyke beard, wearing baggy cargo pants held up with wide-strapped suspenders covering part of an oversized undershirt proclaiming 'Banzi Institute', or something of the sort, and a military soft cap with a ridged bill and emblazed with the number '88' in a circle divided into quarters, further explained. "The Cortex region handles the more advanced functions of language and orientation. Damage to either region is a serious matter, for it can cause a complete personality change all the way up to mental retardation and possible memory loss."

"But you can take care of it?" Fred eagerly asked.

Doc shook his head, neither sadly or reservedly. "This is for a specialist…All of them _need_ to be treated by a specialist. I can recognize the damage, and pass along the report—nothing more."

"But what about—"George began wailing, but Doc quickly cut him off with a sharp look and sharper tone.

"Your Mother and Brother are going to be fine after about a month." Doc repeated to him. "The damage they suffered isn't so great, and with proper care they'll be back to somewhat normal—but it's that girl—"

"Hermione." Ginny told him with a steady gaze. "Her name is Hermione Granger."

Doc to the admonishment with a quite nod, and continued. "Ms. Granger's a mess. Now the brain has shown resilience in many past matters, I can cite you numerous instances, both mundane and magical, of people coming back and functioning after major injuries and strokes. _But_, that has only occurred with extensive amounts of therapy, lasting for months and years. Even with magic, it'll take about the same amount of time to the existent of the damage.

"And I will clearly add that whoever tried putting her under the Puppeteer went out of their way to make it as brutal as possible. This wasn't ineptness, it was deliberate damage."

"What about using the _Angel of Mercy?"_

_Angel of Mercy…_That made Harry gaze wonderingly at Day. _What was that? _Harry wondered while the others gaze hopefully at Doc…

"I'm not skilled to _that_ existent to use it in such situations." He frowned painfully back at Day. "It's very easy to compound the damage to their brains. I'm not going to risk it."

They shrank back as that hope was defeated quite soundly.

Harry just gazed wonderingly at Doc, who saw this and explained, "It's my Healing Stand, one of two that I have. It's quite powerful—"

And just then a cursing scream came from the back of the Bedford, sounding like a cat's tail being stepped on: _"OW! DAMNIT!! GIT OFF THEM YOU DAMN CAT!!"_

There was more yowling, and the swearing becoming more viler. Already, Professor McGonagall, Mr. Weasley and a third wizard Harry didn't recognize were rushing up the Bedford's lowered rear ramp. But as Doc started to run towards the truck, there was a sharp explosion from within and part of the Bedford's cloth covering exploded into shards. Then the familiar orange-fur body of Crookshanks came barreling out of the truck, nearly toppling McGonagall over had it not been for Mr. Weasley being there to stop her fall, and zooming between the third wizard's legs—causing him to fall.

"Oh, no!_ Crookshanks!_" Ginny wailed, just as a very irate Dolly emerged from the Bedford's back. Her black cowboy hat was askew on her long and lanky red hair, and the black long coat she wore bellowed openly to reveal her attire of ragged blue jeans, a torn shirt that fully exposed her midriff—and the handgun she had tucked in the waistband of her jeans. This didn't matter at the time, for she was irately waving a chrome handgun in the air while cursing and murderously gazing at the fleeing figure of Crookshanks.

Crookshanks, who'd stopped at Ginny's feet, turned back and let out with a long rude hiss at the armed woman.

Dolly then aimed her gun at the cat.

Harry found himself rooted to where he stood, watching Professor McGonagall make a lunge for Dolly that deflected the aim of the pistol upward when she fired it, then strike her back after being punched in the face—knocking the Dolly right off the truck bed.

It just all seemed too unrealistic for him to comprehend.

Day placed a hand on Harry's shoulder as they watched the others try to control and disarm Dolly, who along with the flood of vicious profanity that echoed throughout the warehouse, was very much intent upon causing Professor McGonagall a great deal of harm.

"She's actually quite pleasant to be around." Day told them.

After a few moments, Harry realized that he wasn't the only one giving Day a very dubious look on that fact.

10


	19. Chapter 19

Nineteen.

Percy's Attempt.

_Dolly isn't the kind that hates cats. But as Ginny explained it to me, Crookshanks was no ordinary cat. She's Hermione's 'Familiar', or what we'd call in America a 'Companion'._

_That would explain just what happened here; Familiar's will never leave the side of those they serve, unless directly ordered to leave by whom they serve. And can become quite vile when forced to. Poor Dolly, it would have saved her a scratched hand and plenty of harsh feelings from Professor McGonagall—they were ready to go at it, and would have had the others not been close enough. Then there was the matter of firearms, which Dolly cares plenty of, and unafraid to use at the slightest notion. Few British Wizards take kindly to firearms of any kind, especially those who've found themselves in the middle of an outright War or having to deal with either a frightened or paranoid mundane. Owing to the age of both her and Moody, I'm betting they've been in the last big continental war that occurred over here. _

_Moody certainly looks like it…_

_Doc and Mr. Weasley were able to get the row under control, and soon they were on their way, vehicles and all, to a place Doc knows in the Adirondack's of New York State by one of Sky's Mirror-Gate's. The countryside should be nice this time of year, lots of clean air and greenery--a good place to recover from injuries._

_Mirror-Gate's are simple to use, convenient in a great many ways, but a holy nightmare to create. But if you want to try a very long-distance teleport (or Aspiration, as they call it here), please be my guest—I even know a good lawyer that'll handle your last will and testament for a small fee._

_In the meantime, I'm with Harry, Ginny and her twin brothers. And the bomb named Percy that Ginny has just dropped on us…_

_"He was sitting there on a bench against the far side of the hall eating something when the Saloon burst through the wall." Ginny described. "We almost slid into him when we came out."_

_Come to think of it, I do recall the fleeting image of a robed man with red hair standing there wit a bowl and fork in his hands. Can't say much else because of what was going on around me at that particular moment._

_But what I am hearing is making me worry._

_"Pity you didn't" Fred remarks._

_"Smashed Prat on the Wall." George tries grinning, but with his nose all swollen he looks like he's going to sneeze instead. "Percy always wanted to leave his mark on the Ministry."_

_"It would have very suitable." Fred agreed, nodding._

_ "Either of you didn't see him when Anti-Christ blew through the wall?" I asked, and received looks of confusion back._

_"Well actually, all I saw was a great cloud of white with lots of chunky rocks in it." George said._

_"And I was behind your friend." Fred stated. "He's a real nuttier, you know, howling and all as he drove—"_

_"You'd howl too while crashing through a wall." George deadpanned._

_"While racing through the Ministry too?" Fred countered._

_That made George pause in thought, and gave me an opening._

_"So, neither of you saw him…Beyond your kid sister?"_

_Already, I was dreading her answer to my question._

_"Did you make eye contact?"_

_"What's the difference?" Harry spoke up, wondering what was going on. But then he halts, and what else he wanted to say is lost to the realization of the point I was trying to make…"If she seen him, then he would have seen her—and the Professor."_

_Harry was just one moment ahead of the Twins. _

"_He'd tell." Fred definitely said._

"_He didn't see us, Fred." George quickly piped up, which got him a stern rebuke from his brother._

"_If he saw Ginny, he would have seen McGonagall—"_

"_And, what would he do?" Harry cut in._

_That settled it. Ginny gave a muted cry and looked like she'd just seen a ghost while her brothers wore ugly expressions of realization._

"_Tell." George lowly said. "He'd tell on us."_

_Yes, he would. The Probability of Percy ever passing this along to someone in power at the Ministry was very high. He could easily connect Ginny and Professor McGonagall to the rest of the Family and possibly Harry. Of course, its Probability dependent upon weither or not anyone at the Ministry would ever listen to him in the first place._

_But, Probability cannot be ignored. There are too many thieves in prisons who've done that. And I figure Scrimgeour would be scrambling after any lead he can get a hold of right now._

_I give Sky a call over this._

Percy Weasley was hard to shake off.

Granted, Scrimgeour admired tenacity. But at better times, not like now with the Ministry in shambles and reporters clamoring for answers from him.

Still the youth was there behind him, no matter where the Minister went, no matter how many Aurors' were between them, no matter how many dignitaries wanted answers, with the definite look on intent firmly on his face following him around as assessments were made on the damage. It was becoming damned embarrassing, if not frightening to see him always there—always following.

_What if he suddenly blurts out what he'd seen_, Scrimgeour worried, identifying those he saw participating in the carnage…The real Harry Potter as well.

If he ever opened his mouth, Containment would be an open discussion and voted upon before the end of the week. After that, it would take another week to set the Wizards in place and a Month to work the spell up to its fullest existent…

And then, there'd be hell to pay—for everyone.

Scrimgeour kept that and his temper in check. It would do no good to suddenly let the fear get the better of him now while in public view. So he began working his way towards the Office area up on the first level in a very subtle manner, with the press, personnel, and Percy trailing along.

It was easy, and it worked. When he reached the level, all he had to contend with was Percy.

Alone.

And Scrimgeour was ready by then.

"What are you going to do?" Percy demanded after forcing his way into the Office, confronting Scrimgeour with that same hunting look as before. "Hide in your office while the Ministry lays in ruin? _What are you going to do?_"

The Minister coolly regarded his former secretary.

"Close the door." He calmly directed to Percy. And as the youth did, Scrimgeour walked to his desk, sat on its forward most edge and calmly addressed Percy.

"So you saw them?" Scrimgeour frowned.

Percy nodded. "Moody, one of my twin brothers…Professor McGonagall…my sister Ginny." He counted off.

Scrimgeour eyed his former secretary carefully. The boy was informing on his family and their associates, with reason duly noted. Just _why_, Scrimgeour had to be careful about.

"Yes, Albus Dumbledore made quite a few allies before his time." He nodded.

Scrimgeour watched Percy for any sign that he'd give up more. The boy struck him as being more loyal to the position he once held than to the Ministry itself, just like Fudge was. That made him virtually worthless as anything else. Scrimgeour disliked such people; they never got their hands dirty with anything considered less than their stature to earn the position. Yet, they always managed to earn such high position by being able to smoothly speak the right words into the right ear—or use plenty of Galleons.

Fudge was good for attracting people of that sort. His entire staff and the heads of several top ministry departments consisted of such people, people which Scrimgeour removed from their positions once becoming Minister. Percy was the last of that miserable lot, but he was just too valuable at the time to sack at the time.

But of all of them, so far only Percy Weasley came charging back in person…

So it made Scrimgeour wonder; _just how much farther was he willing to go to get it all back?_

That Scrimgeour wondered about.

Percy just stood there in the Office; robes partially covered in dust…slowly becoming enraged.

And when the explosion finally occurred, Percy quite readily shed all pomp and properness he had, approaching the Minister in a staggered gait.

"Well, what are you going to do about it!? You can't afford to be standing there, eyeing me as if I'm mad! I was a witness; I have given you the names of those responsible! _Go after them, damnit!!"_

Scrimgeour let Percy gaze wildly at him with mere feet between them, with nothing more than a slowly forming smile on his face as they gazed eye to eye in the silence that the Office afforded.

"What do you want, Percy?" Scrimgeour asked.

Percy blinked, and found Scrimgeour wasn't in front of him anymore.

"I asked," Scrimgeour loudly demanded, "_what do you want?"_

Percy followed the voice back to the desk, where Scrimgeour leaned against while idly rolling his wand in his hand while keeping it pointed at him.

"You know more, don't you Boy." Scrimgeour's voice was a low, dangerous growl as he carefully eyed Percy. "And you want something for that—don't you?"

Percy Weasley frowned. His own wand was tucked away in his robes, and much too open to reach before the Minister could react. And even then, attacking the Minister of Magic was a clear hanging offense worth several years in Azkaban—or being 'killed in self-defense'. It all depended on what Scrimgeour wanted to do, and on what he'd say about it.

And these days, he could do and say quite a lot.

Percy forced himself to be calm.

"I want the opportunity to prove myself." He answered, controlling every word so that it didn't come out either threateningly or in a mad rush.

"_Prove yourself?_—_Ha! _You did that quite well when we tried going after Potter in London. If it wasn't for your blundering, none of this would be happening!"

"Would it?" Percy shot back

Scrimgeour looked at Percy with growing revolution. Being doubted by his lesser always made him angry.

"Potter _always_ had friends he could rely on." Percy continued. "Friends from Hogwarts, the Ministry, Dumbledore, _my Family_…Oh, you would have caught Potter that day, but could you have kept _them_ from rescuing _him?_ They would have figured out a way. Probably not as spectacular as what happened here today, _but they would have gotten him out of here._

"You could lock him away somewhere; they'd _find a way to free him!_ Control him with an Imperius Curse, _they'd find a way to free him from it!_ Arrange a fraud, a fake Potter, _they'd know it!_ No, you wouldn't be able to keep Harry Potter for long anywhere—_not with people that are determined to protect him!"_

Scrimgeour had been regarding Percy as an irritating distraction from events, one he was about ready to stun and leave for the Aurors deal with. But when he mentioned a 'fake Harry Potter', Scrimgeour nearly lost his composure through sudden surprise. Oh he was close, so very close to the truth! And only with a mere guess at that!

Those made the Minister reconsider several things, consisting of plans and actions for the most part.

But there was still Percy Weasley to deal with.

_Should I, or should I not? _He wondered, while sitting there on his desk.

"And for them to come here in such a manner," Percy went on, "it had to be a rescue. They wouldn't have risked anything more for anything less."

And that made Scrimgeour's mind up for him.

He drew out his wand.

Percy gaped at it, too shocked to do anything else.

"So you've pretty much pieced it all together there, Weasley." He grinned. "They wouldn't have done what they did for anything less than _the actual article."_

Percy just stood while Scrimgeour twiddled the wand in his hand.

"Unfortunately, _that_ was a secret I wanted very few to know of…"

Percy just stood there. There was no reaction, or wonder at what he was being told. He just stood there with a frown on his face.

"Now," Scrimgeour began while drawing a breath, "that puts me in a bit of a quandary, Boy. On one hand, I cannot afford to be labeled a liar because of what I was doing. Yet, I cannot afford to allow people who should not have known in the first place, yet have managed to figure things out, to go around knowing about it."

He gazed sharply at Percy, and added; "Especially if that said person was someone I personally sacked for ineptness fairly recently."

Now there was a reaction; Percy's eyes moved a little—just like those of a criminal when confronted with the undeniable proof of their crime. He blinked, shifted a little too, even looked surprised, but Scrimgeour wasn't sure at that point even if it did matter. For Percy was begining to realize that his meeting with Scrimgeour wasn't going to go as he had so hoped.

"You want that position back, don't you Boy?" Scrimgeour harshly launched at him. "Willing to sell your Family and friends for it, eh? Blood doesn't mean anything to you, just as long as you can walk about with your snoot in the air like you did when you were here—"

"_NO!!" _Percy shouted back with real anger that even Scrimgeour found surprising, considering it source. _"They have committed willful destruction of Ministry property, committed willful acts of Mayhem on Ministry property, and may have well caused acts of bodily harm to Ministry members on Ministry property! I am only reporting their crimes; I am not trying to get back into grace with you!"_

And then he realized what he said. That surprised look was all Scrimgeour needed, and wanted.

"If you had any sense, you would have waited to give your statement to an Auror." He dryly informed. "Stalking me as you did only tipped your hand, and your feverish zeal for justice sealed it all for you."

Then Scrimgeour smiled, "But I do thank you for your account of the incident, you will be rewarded suitably."

And promptly stunned Percy into unconscionusness.

The act was quick, and quite devious. But Scrimgeour had no further time to deal with Percy's horrible attempt at trying to regain grace, especially with all that's happened.

As soon as the body settled, Scrimgeour was calling Prefit by summons. By the time the Head Prosecutor arrived a plan had already congealed.

"Dennis, I want what he'd just witnessed in the past four hours removed and stored—it contains valuable information on who's responsible for the attack. Then I want his entire attitude changed towards actually _doing _some good for the Ministry."

Prefit slowly walked over to the body, gazing down at it with little real interest.

"Tried bribing his way back?" he mused.

"Selling out his friends and family." Scrimgeour frowned. "Thought Arthur's Family was much closer than that. But still," He added standing up, "I the following people sought out…"

It took several hours, but when Bone returned to the Lincoln word was waiting for him; _Operation success. Injured have been moved to special location, report coming. Potter in America…_

That last part made him smile, the perfect end to an 'incredible evening' where things went off without a hitch and important information was gathered. Now it would be a matter of keeping Potter away from Scrimgeour until the start of the Hogwarts term, when a good many other plans would come to fruition.

While it would all raise hell with diplomacy between their respective countries, Bone was certain that it would all be justified in the end.

Then another message came; _Day with Twins in London J-Shop. Ministry activity in area increasing…_

Bone blinked.

Just what in hell was Day doing? He should have been out of the Country by now, not at the Weasley Joke Shop.

For remaining in it put everything at risk.

Bone reached for the car's telephone…

_This is clearly one of those times when I should be kicking, screaming, and pulling out my hair in a grand old hissy fit._

_But, I always tell myself that Murphy rules everything—and no amount of screaming, crying, and other whatnot is going to change what happened._

_Ok, there's a very great possibility that the Twins and several others got spotted and recognized during the escape—most notably by their now disowned older brother, who'd most definitely try his damnest to make hay out of the matter. So that means a very drastic change in plans for several people—me included._

_Skywise takes my urgent call in stride, once realizing what's occurred. "Don't worry about us." He tells me. "Doc's in good with the people here, we can find accommodations."_

_That just leaves the other Weasleys'._

_Ginny's easy to deal with; she'll go on ahead with Harry to Home. _

_But the Twins…They're a surprise a minute._

_But then, I hadn't realized that Magical Novelties was such a cut-throat business to be in. Oh granted, the Weasley Twins have brass and brains galore. And in creativity, they're unbeatable. There had to have been twenty trunk-loads of notebooks, filled to the hilt with well through out ideals just waiting to see the light of day…_

_Filled with items that could easily make any skillful entrepreneur a multi-billionaire hands down. Those, the brother's insisted, had to come—they weren't going to leave them behind. _

_And there was making sure their general (and only) assistant received continuous pay._

_And there was the Bank loan to pay…_

_And there suppliers to notify…_

_Numerous investors…_

_Close friends…_

_Favored customers…_

_GAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!! I was literally loosing my mind in the Owl Post Office waiting for these two to finish sending the news off, though the counter clerk was quite happy to have the business. After four whole hours, we finally started in on the Joke shop. Though by then I was right ready to blow off more than just steam…_

_Keep it calm…Keep it cool…_

_Fred high-tailed it up stairs to pack for everybody, while George and I dealt with all of the notebooks and other important papers sending them quickly back to the warehouse along with other vital supplies contained in vaguely marked cases…_

_That had me worried. _

_But when I started to ask what that stuff was, the Shop's front door was suddenly blown in._

_George looked like he'd been caught doing something with his hand and it didn't involve it being in the cookie jar._

"_Get packing!" I hissed at him, and head for the stairwell with the Browning ready in one hand with the other digging out a few Flash-Bangers while cursing myself for not being more firm with the boys back in the Post Office. _

_After sending off the last of the cases, George goes tearing up the stairs like a whole herd of elephants in panic. And naturally whomever's down in the shop starts coming into the backroom for a look…_

_Those apparently not yelling for help. There was no way to tell what was happing in the shop itself, but it sounds like a granddaddy of a fistfight going on in there._

_I ready an F-B to go when I witness one of the Twin's anti-burglar spells in action; the curtain that blocks off the backroom suddenly envelops itself around whoever was the first one to try going through it and simply wont let go. One Auror, then two more try to pull and pry the curtain off their fellow with their hands but find themselves stuck as well._

_Really neat. I wonder if the Twins' are intending to market it._

_As I start creeping back up the stairs, while watching the calamity below, two more Aurors manage to push past the block at the door and start looking around with wands ready. They don't see me until the F-B I've pitched is starting on it's downward arc, and I'm at the second floor when it goes off with a tremendous 'BANG!' and flash guaranteed to have them hearing nothing and seeing stars for the rest of the day. I toss a second one for good measure as I rush up the next flight, and soon I'm in the Living Quarters._

_But the Twins aren't there…_

_But there were sounds coming from a room where the door was open. That I started towards…_

"_Hold it you!" _

_The Voice was gravely and coming from both above and behind._

_Suddenly moving to the side was my best option. He'd fire while I was dodging…_

_I just hope he didn't have any friends up there with him…_

_Then Fred appears to me in the doorway, but well in the room._

"_Don't worry about them!!" he motions at me. "Get in here!!"_

_So I do. There are times when you just gotta have faith in people._

_I take two steps and there's a crackle followed by a piercing scream from above, soon there are more in differing tones joining the first. _

_There's nothing to care about, really. I get into the room in a hurried crouch, slamming the door shut behind me. It's a bedroom, and the Twins, anxious, are both there with three steamer trunks piled up in a pyramid in the middle of the floor._

"_Ready?" I ask._

"_Set!" George definitely nods._

"_Have you got the socks separated out all properly?" Fred needles him._

_George readies a retort, and I ready to step into the middle of it, when an even thunderous crash occurs in the other room. That pretty much ends the argument as we and the trunks beat a hasty teleport to the warehouse, before anything else drops in on us._

13


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty.

Worrisome Things.

_"Stay in the house, don't go out side. Even if it's to the back yard, stay inside!"_

Those were Day's instructions to Harry and Ginny, as he put them into Tamm before letting the car drive them through the Mirror Gate to relative safety. Harry didn't want to go and Ginny was quite distressed, but Day and the Brothers assured them that they'd be along soonest after taking what was needed from the Joke Shop. Things, that as Fred tried to explain, were quite vital to them.

"Look, we'll be along in a while. Enjoy the rest of the Pizza, and don't take it out on Ginny." Fred said in parting.

There were things Harry wanted to say while he was there. But Day prompted Tamm forward, and just before they passed through the Gate Harry managed to call out; "Don't get into trouble for my sake!"

He wished it was something better, more intelligent. But they went through the Gate…and that was all.

The warehouse had been brightly lit by powerful ceiling lights that bathed everything in a clear consistent light. Where Harry and Ginny found themselves now was largely dark, with a bluish-gray light creeping in from a tiny window high on the left wall. Tamm's headlights remained on, lighting up a small worktable directly in front of them, with an assortment of power tools hanging on the wall and shelving extending leftward into the shadows. There was also a door to the far right…

It looked too familiar to Harry.

"Where are we?" Ginny asked, looking around in wonder.

"FRE—zzz--No." Tamm uttered through her speakers, in that scrambled voice the car used. "Ca—ow--ah—forn—ya."

Harry stepped out of the driver's seat and looked back. Tamm's dome light gave off a pale but powerful light of its own that cut through the darkness, revealing extensive shelving along the left wall, gardening tools, a wheelbarrow, lawnmower, and behind them a solid door.

"Garage." Harry muttered to himself.

The slam of a car's door snapped his attention to Ginny, who was now standing along side Tamm with only her eyes and nose just sitting above the car's roof looking worriedly at Harry.

"We're in a garage." Harry told her.

"Ma—ters hol—mm." Tamm added.

Outside, past the large door, what sounded like a car drove past.

"What'll we do?" Ginny then asked.

Harry gazed back that the Garage Door. It was just that; a solid, one-piece wood and metal door that could be opened by remote—he spotted the drive box just over his head as he looked. Not the large majestic creation of brass, diamond, and mirrored glass they and the others went through to leave London.

Walking over to it and hitting it with his fist proved nothing useful. And if it was, he didn't know how to set it to get back.

"Guess we wait, Ginny. I don't know what else to do."

But there were the six boxes of pizza in the backseat…

And a very irate snowy owl raising a fit in her cage. Harry, with all matter of distractions going on, had forgotten about Hedwig. But after being bounced around in her cage for so long in the backseat, the owl wasn't about to let Harry forget again.

In fact, she pretty well had had enough. When he tried setting the cage right, she'd lunge at him with beak and claw through the bars of the cage trying to attack him when he'd get close. Speaking to her wouldn't help, and there were no treats to be had since he didn't think to bring any. But with Ginny's help, Harry distracted Hedwig while she reached around from behind and quickly tipped the cage upright—which pitched the poor owl right on her back setting off another round of irate screeches and further attacks against Harry. But now holding the cage by its carrying ring at the very top, Harry's hands were safe from any vicious attacks.

"Don't worry about me." Harry told Ginny, while holding the cage at arms length away from him. "Just get the pizzas out of the back."

Ginny knew something of folding front seats from the Ford her family once owned, and easily found the small dark plastic lever on the lower left side of the seat that tilted it forward. But the very design of the Grand Am proved an additional burden, even when only taking two of the large boxes out at a time. Its curved roof didn't offer much room between the top of the folded forward seat and the compartment's roof, and Ginny had to struggle with the lopsided flat boxes while hoping their contents didn't spill out into the car. Harry had already stepped around the front of Tamm and was opening the far right door to the house when he noticed her struggles. Going to help, he quickly placed the cage on Tamm's hood. Moments later, the sound of Hedwig tipping her cage over and it rolling down the sloped hood of the car with the owl screeching madly away made him take a desperate lunge for the cage to prevent it from hitting the concrete floor.

Harry stopped it, but by placing his hands on the cage's barred sides. And Hedwig in her rage took full advantage of it, leaving a deep gouge in the palm of his left hand with her beak.

He reacted with a yell and snapping both hands back.

The cage rolled off the hood, bounced off the bumper to the floor, and rolled under the bench with Hedwig screeching all the way.

Harry held his injured hand, entertaining the rage driven ideal of grabbing that long handled pitchfork on the far wall over there and just…

"Let me see that." Ginny was at his side before he even realized it, turning his injured hand for a look.

"Look, I'm." He tried pulling his hand away from her, but for her size and seeming delicateness Ginny tightened her grip and hand a really good look at his injury.

"That's deep." She quickly cut him off. "Better wash it first. I hope there are bandages here."

"Cab—in—ATE o-Ver Ssss—ink in KIT—sh--IN." Tamm responded shaking slightly.

Ginny looked back, wondering, "Where?"

"In the Kitchen." Harry irritatedly replied.

Ginny looked quickly at him.

"Ther..OO at' D—oar." Tamm added.

"This way." Harry remarked, and started to the tan door which he opened before Ginny could. A short pantry was there, but the kitchen lay beyond—and what a kitchen it was. It was the large, sprawling kind with tiles red tiled floors, polish stone counter-tops all around the rooms perimeter, steel sinks, state-of-the-art appliances, neatly arranged cutting knives, towels, plastic storage containers and very clean. Aunt Petunia wouldn't want to leave, it was what she'd always wanted in a kitchen—right down to the preparation table in the center, with its own sink and cupboards. Harry forgot his own anger in the face of such a marvel. He didn't expect Day to live like this, like a Muggle. Harry figured that he was no different than the Weasley's, or possessing a House Elf or two to do the work for him. From what he saw, the whole house was quite posh—what kind of a wizard could live like that? He wondered.

"Where did Tamm say the bandages were?" Ginny pointedly asked him.

She had to ask two more times before he emerged enough for his funk to point out the location to her. There was a second sink against the left wall, next to the electronicly-opperated stove, with a small cabinet of rich light wood mounted over it—much too high for Ginny to reach standing on the floor. But taking a chair from a small dining table at the far end of the Kitchen, where it was next to a large storm window that overlooked the backyard, she could easily reach the contents of the cabinet by standing on the chair.

Now all Ginny had to figure out was which of the various boxes and containers contained the bandages.

In the meantime, Harry had moved to the other sink in the center of the room and was proceeding to wash out his hand wound. Grimacing from the sharp pain, he looked back over his shoulder to see Ginny trying to find what she was looking for in the cabinet.

"It's that white box on your left." He told her through clenched teeth. "The one with the red cross on it."

Ginny frowned. "Wish they'd said so."

Harry wanted to yell back, something quite loud and very rude which would relieve some of the pain from his hand. But he stopped before the words got out of his mouth…

_She only trying to help, but has no ideal of what it's like in the Muggle world, _he realized then and forced himself to calm down before speaking in gasps, Sometimes, they do. Other times, you need to see the…bandage on the box…"

Ginny brought the book sized box down from the cabinet, she even grabbed a few cloth hand towels hanging near the sink before heading to Harry's aid at the sink where she started dealing with the wound. There were bandages of all shapes and sizes and a roll of adhesive tape in the blue and white box, each in its own protective paper envelope that puzzled Ginny even as Harry instructed her in how to first open the envelope then peel off the protective strips from the adhering side—though the large square bandages had very little of such surface to deal with. Once on the wound, the roll of adhesive tape had to be dealt with.

And it proved to be quite stubborn to unadher from the roll.

"Mother would just tap the bandage with her wand." Ginny remarked, while struggling to lift the leading end of the tape. "And it would stay in place, nothing could re—_ow!"_

Her fingernail broke right at its base. Ginny shook her hand as if she scorched it, before turning her attentions to the roll with the clear angry intent of causing it harm.

"Hold the roll." Harry quickly told her. "I'll get at it."

"Oh, _it will_ _get it."_ Ginny fumed back, drawing out her wand.

"No, no…just hold it at the edges…See?"

It was a tense minute as a very upset Ginny held the roll while Harry picked away repeatedly and quickly at the tapes leading edge with the index finger of his free hand. Soon, the stubborn edge yielded upward was pulled free from the roll with a sticky tearing sound much to Ginny's surprise.

"You just haft to work at it." He told her.

Ginny grumbled but said nothing while taping the bandage to Harry's hand.

Harry could flex his injured hand a little. It still hurt, but as long as the bandage remained in place there shouldn't be too much worry. But Ginny being as upset as she was, he figured that any attempt at conversation with her would be cut off quite quickly.

But the silence didn't last too much longer.

"Are you going back out to fetch Hedwig?" she asked, after placing the chair back at the table.

Harry had considered it. The Owl may have calmed down by now, and be less likely to attack—so he hoped. His injury made him pause though, for it was very possible that Hedwig would go into another rage if he appeared.

"Later." He carefully told her.

Ginny turned away, her expression unreadable.

Through the windows, the morning light became brighter. Harry could see that the entire backyard was hemmed in by thick flowering bushes, and the swimming pool smack in the middle of it all. It made him remember all of the times Dudley howled for one to be put in the backyard of…

"That's no way to treat her, you know." Ginny told him. "She might be injured."

Harry paused.

"I'm going to wait until she's calmed down." He told her. "She's been through a lot, you know."

Ginny turned and glared at him. It wasn't pleasant to see her usually pleasant face twisted up into a mask of anger.

"Hedwig is your Owl, Harry! You shouldn't treat her like that!" She snapped, stunning Harry. "I thought you were better!"

"She attacked me, Ginny! You helped me with the wound just now." Harry launched back. "If I go back to her now, she may try again—"

Ginny looked sharply away from him, still upset.

"What is wrong with you?" Harry demanded, thinking quickly. "Is it because you couldn't get that roll of tape to work?"

"No!" she snapped back, with out turning.

"Broken fingernail?"

"No…"

Ginny faced him again, frowning, this time with tears in her eyes.

Harry involuntarily backed away.

This was something else, something more than Hedwig, the tape roll, anything he could think of at the moment.

Something he wasn't about to ask, for he was afraid of what the answer would be.

"No…It's not those things." She quietly replied. "Stupid things to be arguing over. It is better to wait for Hedwig to calm down before going to fetch her …You don't need to be attacked again."

Harry stood quietly, but his mind was racing around for a possible answer…

Ginny smiled sadly back at him, "My fingernail can grow back…I've got others, you know…Don't worry about it."

And Harry said the first thing that came into his head; "Your Family?"

It almost looked like she was going to burst into tears at that moment. Instead, she turned slightly away from Harry.

It was a very long minute before she could muster the courage to speak.

"I've never…really been alone. Mother, Father…my Brothers, they were always around. I could easily get to them if there was any trouble…Or need."

She wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her jumpsuit as she sniffled. "Now, they're all scattered about. Mum and Ron are in a bad way. No word about Charlie, or even about Bill or Fleur. Fred and George are with Day…"

She paused with a critical look at Harry.

"Do you really trust him that much?" she asked. "Yes, he's smart…and capable, and knows many other wizards. But, who he really, Harry? It could have been more than just chance that you met."

Yes, Day never really did explain what he was exactly doing in Olden Town on that particular night. He became evasive whenever the subject was brought up, as if hiding something. But, there were too many things about him that didn't tie him in with a Death Eater. The house they were in was another piece of the puzzle; a fully modern kitchen Harry knew his Aunt would simply die for…And wasn't that the latest in giant flat-screen television's over by the far wall of the other room, just a short distance away?

Voldermort fancied himself not only by the title of "Lord" but also as a pureblooded wizard—what would he be doing with such utterly Muggle things? Or any of his followers, for that matter? Harry remembered the troubles Mr. Weasley had when it was discovered that he had a magiced car, what would have been done if he also had a firearm as well?

No, Day was different—very different. In what way was difficult to figure, but they did trust him and his friends enough to work with them in spite the initial misgivings.

Perhaps it was that difference that made them uneasy, afraid. Being the way things were, that was hardly surprising. To them, his readily apparent trust in Day, a complete stranger, was perhaps a little too readily for their comfort. Though not climbing into Tamm when he did would have certainly led to his death and even while in Ministry captivity the thought of betrayal never occurred to him because Day was helping to get him free.

And did.

Now, here he was in a very Muggle-kitchen with a deeply worried Ginny in who knows where the house was. Tamm did tell them in her own way, but it was forgotten.

"Harry," she softly sniffled, "I don't know what to do."

Neither did Harry rightly at that moment. But seeing her in distress over her family made it quite clear to him that the best thing to do was to comfort Ginny as best as he could.

So, he knelt down beside her first to speak. He wasn't sure if she'd let him put his arm around her at this point. Ginny didn't flinch when he gripped the back of the chair she was seated in.

"Ginny." Harry began leaning closely towards her. "I cannot say much about what has happened because it would do no good to undo the past. But what I can say is—"

Then from the Garage there came such a clatter that both of them jumped out of fear into each others arms, and Harry's mind began racing for a solution.

Then the Garage door burst open, and in strode Fred smiling proudly while raising his hand in the air.

"We have arrived!" he loudly announced.

There was more, but lost it when noticing Harry and Ginny in close embrace before him.

"Hello…?" he then said with a mixture of surprise and confoundedness.

Then three trunks drifted into the room from the garage, floating low over the tiled floor under the direction of George who even with his sore nose wasn't in a very happy mood at that moment.

"You _can help_ with these, you know." He frowned at Fred…

Then he too spotted Harry and his sister in their embrace, becoming very surprised at the sight.

And finally, a very tired looking Day trailed up from behind.

He didn't say anything for the first few moments, just stared in an out of touch sort of way. Then he gave a long sigh of consummation, opened the refrigerator next to him taking out a large dark bottle from its body which he took several very lengthy drinks from after twisting the top off.

Then he held the bottle, which Harry recognized as containing beer, before him in a saluting fashion, took a deep breath before telling them one and all, "Welcome to Fresno, California."

And finished off the rest of the bottle quickly.

11


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-one.

Catnaps, Caffeine, and Caution.

_California…_

Harry had herd of it before, from days of Geography classes in primary school… long before Hogwarts.

It was located on the western shore of the continental United States of America, taking up the largest portion of its western shore of the three states located there. There were other things too, but it had been several years since he'd actually looked at any geographic reference books or done any reports from them. Studying magic had taken precedence in the years since so the discovery was very much like a slap in the face to him; surprising, and very startling.

There was a lightly unreal feeling to it as well, being there in Day's living room watching the backyard becoming brighter and brighter as the morning wore on. He hadn't herd of, or could ever clearly recall hearing of 'Fresno, California'. It didn't sound like 'Los Angeles' or 'San Francisco', or a few other cities that started with 'San' but couldn't remember the rest…

But he wasn't in England…

_That was Six Thousand miles away!_

"Hey Harry, you alright?"

Fred's question shook Harry out of his funk. He was sitting in the living room, which gave the impression that they were in a log cabin, on the long sofa that was next to the giant flat-screen television mounted to the north wall. Harry blinked in surprised at first, then from the growing light coming in from the windows that faced the back yard.

There was Hedwig, in her cage sitting on the low table before the couch, eyeing him with distain. George was across the way, next to the steps up to the Kitchen, stretched completely out in a dark leather recliner with an ice bag over his swollen nose apparently asleep. He couldn't see Ginny, but there was Fred leaning towards him looking very concerned.

Quickly, Harry turned to Fred and quietly told him; "We're in America."

"What?" Fred blinked after a moment of surprise.

"_America_…"Harry managed to force out. "_The United States of America…_We've aspirated over _Six Thousand miles_."

"Not possible." Fred flatly said

_"Then what in hell are we doing in America?"_ Harry nearly wailed.

"Hiding from Scrimgeour and the Ministry until the start of term at Hogwarts, which is about a month and a half away." Fred quietly told him. "Now they're going to start serving up breakfast here soon…"

But Harry's mind raced. _Six Thousand Miles, _the concept was very overwhelming. They were practically on the far side of the World, and in moments—nobody had ever aspirated that far before, at least to the common knowledge Harry possessed. And there was Fred acting as if nothing was wrong at all. _What the hell was wrong with him, _Harry wondered. He figured both him and his brother would be insane with the desire of wanting to know how it was done. Yet, there he was acting all nonchalant about it. It made Harry want to yell out of sheer exasperation, until Fred sat down next to him and gently spoke into his ear.

"Look, Harry…I want you to understand, _we did not aspirate here_…Not in the least bit."

Harry gazed at him in disbelief.

"We came nearly halfway around the World by means of a _Door._"

Harry blinked.

"Door?" Harry repeated, still not believing.

"It's old magic." Fred struggled to explain. "_Very old and very complex magic. _Like Portkey's and Vanishing Cabinets, even the Foo Network, but without the complexity demanded for their creation—a complexity which only a Wizard or Witch equal to Dumbledore's skill could only attempt due to the difficulties. McGonagall figured it all out when Skywise set up the ones back at the warehouse, even mentioned that there were books on the subject in the restricted section of the Hogwarts Library."

Harry still didn't quite fully follow Fred, but something's were beginning to stick in his mind in spite the sluggishness there that was slowing him down.

"Look," Fred continued, "I know what you're going through, because Ginny, George, and myself all went through what you're going through right now when _we_ first experienced it."

_You went through this before! _ Harry wanted to ask, but his mind wasn't generating enough drive to do so. So all he did was gaze at Fred in the most amazed way he could.

"It's damn startling, let me tell you." Fred continued after taking a breath, "None of us were ready for it. Took George a whole day just to get over it."

_Six Thousand Miles, yes it would take some time to get over having traveled that far in an instant_, Harry started realizing, probably _because of the shock of it…_

There clearly was more to this man Day than what was seen at first. A Wizard, who both acted and lived like a Muggle in all aspects, yet could command powerful magics as if he lived with them his entire life…

Just like Dumbledore.

_No, _Harry paused, _not quite. _Not from the little snippets of life he had experienced of the man whose very decisions engineered his life to the present. He read Muggle newspapers and quite possibly other periodicals, the knitting magazines with the fascinating patters were in that bathroom and knowing what was occurring in the Muggle world tended to rule out more than just wanting to pass time while bored. There were parallels between the late Headmaster and the American, but Harry knew so little about both men that he couldn't really be so sure…

He leaned back on the couch, closing his eyes.

"Look, Harry, if you need—"

"No..no, wait a minute." Harry cut Fred off with a wave of his hand. "I just need…to rest."

_Yes, sleep would do._ A good long time in a bed, without interruption or the anxiety he suffered through while waiting for escape that kept him awake for hours at a time. The body demanded it, wanted it. But his mind wasn't going to allow him an easy reprieve, even for the moment, with its continuous nagging over many things; Horcruxes, Mrs. Weasley, Ron and Hermione, his throbbing hand…what Minister Scrimgeour had said about not needing him anymore, and what would happen should they meet again—especially if Umbridge was around, oh what he wanted to do to her if given the chance. The bits and pieces swirled angrily through Harry's mind with all the power of a violent storm, refusing to rest until they had been duly dealt with to their satisfaction.

Oh to have a Pensive of his own right now. He could pull that troublesome wad out of his mind with a touch of a wand to be stored later…

His wand, he suddenly remembered, did Mr. Weasley still have it? Would he give it back if he asked? After all this time, Harry had forgotten all about it.

And into this came the smell of eggs and bacon. Delightful, inviting, it wreaked havoc with the desire to sleep, pulling him back with its wonderful intoxications until he was awake and sitting up.

"Is there toast and jam?" Harry absently asked Fred.

_We sent Harry and Ginny off to separate beds for their naps after the put together breakfast, full in both stomach and head._

_Especially the Head…_

_The ideal of the Gate, or 'Door' as Fred called it, goes way, way back—as Skywise once told me. Instantaneous travel over thousands of miles, even light-years, if the Gate builder is sufficiently powerful and desiring enough, is quite dizzying to wrap one's brain around—even one that's full of Magic. But as exciting as it sounds, there's also a bittersweet side coming from the fact that such complexly demanding magical disciplines were cast aside for the simpler means of short-range Apparition and Portkey's._

_Probably because they're 'simpler' to do, and much quicker to set up._

_Perhaps now's the time for its rediscovery._

_But for the moment, I find myself wondering what to do about the Twins._

_They're giddy, and not from caffeine, which is quite understandable. It's tradition for the young Wizard and Witch, upon graduation from their respective schools, to make a trip around the world. It's meant to further their learning and understanding of the World which they live in, and of course get their 'feet wet' by experiencing Mundane Society up close and personally. But sadly, so many of them make it a very damn short trip because of the biased, preconceived notions learned at their parents and grandparents knees (and quite a few others) concerning the Mundane existence. But a lot of it is hit-and-miss, dependent upon which parts of the World they travel to. Those who manage to find the more pleasant and interesting route stay out longer receiving a more pleasant experience, than those who have the misfortune of coming case to face with all of that is vile and evil of the Mundane world. Facing that, I'd return home as fast as the wind too._

_And instead of broadening the minds and horizons of the next generation, they'd steep them in ignorance and narrowed views._

_Thank God I'm different._

_But the three of us simply can't leave Harry and Ginny behind while doing a road tour of Fresno, as the Twins are eager to do. They never did the 'Tour' since their leaving Hogwarts was quite abrupt, and I didn't want to know. But it would be downright irresponsible, in spite the formable defenses around my home, if the three of us did the road while leaving them behind._

_So, I start with what I figure would best keep the Brother's attention held until they've returned to the living…_

_I pull out the Sony Playstation. It'll keep their attention…_

_But as I explain the mechanism, there's a knock on my front door. _

_It's Nine-thirty on a Thursday morning. Christian groups don't start canvassing the neighborhood with their families until the weekend, and it's too early for anyone else to come banging. And since I'm expecting no one, my first concern is to wonder if the Ministry hasn't already made our location. Bone maybe, or a bigwig at the Bureau, but possibly just some clueless nobody there wanting to be a somebody to really blow everything apart. _

_At least the Brother's are savvy, it doesn't take much to get them ready for a fight though calling up my Browning aids in the understanding._

_I position them in the hallway leading to the bedrooms, which is to the right of the entry Foyer twelve feet from the door. There's another knock as I position a Mirror-Pane to see who's there on my front step…_

_Two men; a bald barrel-shaped Black and a taller, muscular Asian with his busy hair parted down the middle standing behind him. They're in dark full business suits wearing dark sunglasses, total MIB, though the Asian's glasses have round lenses to the Black's sleek Ray-Band's._

_The Black bends forward slightly while adjusting his Ray-Band's, smiling._

_"Mr. Day, may we come in?" I can hear him say through the door._

_The Sunglasses. He's seen me through the door with them._

_The mailbox outside on the street says 'L. Phillip's Residence'. Right off the bat a lot of things come to mind. The problem is, I've dealt with many in my career so I'm at a lost to know where these two fit in the mix. And they know me. _

_It's the moments like this that make me wish I was in Tahiti. Not for any particular reason, except to not be standing where I was._

_Oh well, too late to pretend._

"_What are you selling?" I call back. An old stand-by I use. It's not much since they can see me, but what the hell…_

"_Security. Agents' Barnabus and Fredricks from the Bureau of Magical Affairs."_

_A few things came to mind, first and foremost was the fact that under Bone's agreement I and the crew were to sit watch over Potter. If this was a BMA Field Crew, then there was someone trying to make a name for themselves—oh is Bone going to blow over this._

_And at this time, the phone rings in the living room._

_Jeeze, what else is God going to throw at me today?_

"_We're here to check on a Mr. Potter." 'Mr.' Black continues._

_Behind me, I can hear the Brothers become antsy._

_I could argue it out with them from behind the door, hoping they'd get tired and leave. They'd return later, but their options are limited since I live in a mundane neighborhood—so no nasty magic, it'll be hard to explain what happened to the Officials. And I have a Mirror-Gate stashed in the bathroom of the fourth bedroom; it wouldn't take too much to slip back to London…_

_After the third ring, God hits me with a real whammy in the form of Bone's authoritarian voice leaving a message on the answering machine; "Mr. Day, I'm calling about Potter…Please respond immediately. Bureau Agents are on their way."_

_Of course I can't, I'm opening the front door for the Agents he sent._

"_Shame he didn't call sooner." 'Mr.' Black remarks while entering, "Would've saved us a lot of hassle."_

Agent Fredricks handled whatever needed to be said, even paying respect to the Weasley Brothers and removing his dark Ray-Band sunglasses so not be such an intimidating presence while showing his Bureau identification. Agent Barnabus on the other hand remained an immoveable presence in the foyer, standing silently while watching his partner and not removing his dark sunglasses.

The only other thing he did while there was to return Fred and George's wands to them, after taking them out of their hands when they pointed them at the Agents. An accident really, they came out of their hiding place with wands leveled at the Agents…

Agent Barnabus just motioned with his left hand, and the wands flew right to him.

"Sorry about that." Fredricks gently smiled to the startled Twins. "But seriously, you need to be more responsible with your wands… Someone might have gotten hurt."

After the wands were returned, and a call to Bone was made, Fredricks began stating the reasons why they were there.

"When Ambassador Bone herd that you had stayed behind in London, instead of immediately leaving, he became concerned for your welfare…Apparently, you've made it safely."

"Well there was some trouble at the Joke Shop." Fred put in.

"Were they able to _Trace_ you?" Fredricks pressed him.

Both Fred and George looked confusedly at Fredricks, until Day explained what the Agent meant.

"Trace refers to a Sigel, or 'Mark'. It's a means of tracking people or things over considerable distance…"

"A _Cicatrix_?" George wondered.

"Yes." Day nodded.

George turned to his brother. "We would have felt it, wouldn't we?"

"Depends on how subtle it was applied, George." Fred directly responded, "It's like making a Portal Gate, a very fine art." Then to Agent Fredricks, Fred continued, "But they wouldn't have had the able to mark us when in our Joke Shop…"

"The Protective Magic's we applied to the entire building were either of our own making, or modified from existing protective spells." George added. "Any attempt to use any amount of Magic with in the Store's field, unless specified by us, would have lead to a multitude of embarrassing things occurring to the wielder…"

"Primarily to prevent thieves." Fred now continued. "But also extended to attackers."

"And vandals." George added.

"As well as spies." Fred also added. "My brother and I performed a lot of experiments there. We didn't want to leave our records behind."

Fredricks slowly nodded while listening to the Twins' explanations, but wasn't in anyway sympathetic when he directly responded to them.

"You two very nearly got yourselves caught, safeguards or not." He growled.

As the Twins recoiled from that, Fredricks then turned on Day. "How did you manage to nearly screw things up as well?"

At first, Day just blinked wondering. But as what he was asked began to dawn on him, he frowned as he replied, "Murphy arrived uninvited. We had to improvise."

Fredricks looked ready to yell, but Day cut him off. "Look, it happens. If the Ministry of Magic was a little more on the ball, we wouldn't have been able to even get close to Potter—even with Bone's help."

"Taking risks—"

"Is part of the job" Day tiredly sent back. "Don't you dare tell me otherwise, because there's always the chance, in spite how good the person is, for Murphy to make an appearance."

Fredricks just glared. For a while it appeared he'd yell back, or explode setting off a full scale argument that could only lead to a fight.

"Now, I'm sorry things didn't come to a neat and clean ending." Day continued. "But they came out good for us...As for where we came out of the Foo Network, that wasn't my ideal…"

Fred and George managed to smile slightly at that, which Day did see from the corner of his eye but didn't respond to.

"However, we are set." Day continued. "According to plan, Potter and those who can will be returned to London to board the Hogwarts Express—"

"Where the Ministry will be waiting." Fredricks remarked.

"What are they going to do?" Day asked. "Kidnap him all over again? He's gotta go back to Hogwarts."

"If you think Scrimgeour's going to make Harry dance for him," Fred suddenly stepped in, "you and that old shagger are in for a very nasty surprise."

"If Harry wouldn't work for him then, he damn well wont do it now." George added.

"Especially after what happened to Ms. Granger." Day put in. "Abuse of power never goes over well."

"It depends upon the reasoning." Fredricks casually remarked. "These days, nothing's below anyone…Anymore."

"Rules are rules." Day coolly replied.

Fredricks quietly regarded Day with a smile slowly forming over his wide face.

"I find that funny, coming from the likes of you, Mr. Day." He replied with a broad smile.

Day fumed back, silently.

"It's the irony, Mr. Day." Fredricks continued. "This whole matter of Harry Potter and Lord Voldermort is one big International irony. The Ministry employs devious means to secure itself, and we, through a thief like you, employ devious means to interrupt that. If it fails, everything gets exposed in a very ugly way."

Then he folded his arms across his chest with a sad sigh. "I guess there's something to be said about the best laid plans of mice and men in all of this."

Before the Agents left, Fredricks imparted a few facts to Day and the Weasley's; "There'll be Agents watching you and this place at all times. Real pros, you wouldn't be able to spot them even if they were standing right in front you buck naked with their hair on fire. So don't bother trying…"

But Day knew full well that the Twins would try. Already, they were thinking up ways of doing just that while listening to Fredricks with critical gazes on their faces.

"And one more thing." Fredricks added. And when he was sure of their attention, he revealed it—especially to Day.

"Witch Hazel got bounced right out of L.A."

Fred and George gazed sideways at Day, who frowned even more bitterly back at Fredricks.

"With San Francisco closed to her, there's few places she's can really go."

"New York." Day coolly responded.

"Not after that mess in Manhattan." Fredricks replied, unaffected. "It maybe forty years since then, but there are people back there with some long memories."

"You think she'll come up here?" Day then said.

Fredricks just slipped on his dark sunglasses and smiled back, "We'll be in touch."

Both He and Barnabus were through the door as Day breathed, "Yea, right…"

And as Day turned away, George asked, "Is this something we should know about?"

"And who's Murphy?" Fred wondered.

Day stopped and turned with a disgruntled look on his face.

12


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-two

On the far side of the World.

_Bernadine Hazel…_

_Whatta bomb to have dropped into my lap. Fredricks is probably laughing his ass off over it. But if his Bureau screws up, he'll have that self-same portion of his anatomy removed with a chainsaw._

_If he's lucky…_

_Oh yes, I know Bernadine Hazel._

_She came out of the Great American Depression, when Los Angeles was just this port town wedged between the Pacific and the farmers out east. Her Family, long established in Southern California for centuries, gave her the needed foundation to grow while sex appeal did the rest. _

_And somewhere along the way, probably from one of her seven husbands, who died under odd circumstances, she learned the art of backstabbing, manipulation, and how to make sure that it's the underlings which take the fall while staying free and clear of the mess—along with lessons in Chinese Dragon arts, Aztecian Blood rituals, Caribbean Voodoo, and a dash of Native American Shamanism from a multitude of 'friends'. Somehow managing this mix into a very uniformed method of 'getting her way-or else', with the 'or else' part leaving nothing to the imagination. Numerous unsolved disappearances and murders were committed by her and attributed to her. Weither or not the latter were just padding for her reputation can be debated, but just the same Hazel always got her way._

_Guess there is something to be said about 'sex appeal'; especially if you've got the body of a slim forty year old when you're seventy._

_Nobody's really sure if her Family played as dirty as she did. But one thing was a certain fact for ages; nothing happened in Southern California with out their approval—nothing at all. If anyone tried going against that, they paid dearly in blood. But she elevated it to an art form._

_Oh yes, I know Bernadine Hazel. Since I'm among the few to have gone up against her and live, surviving each time by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin to put it mildly. Though the first time, she nearly killed me along with all my friends down L.A. way when we though we could rip her off. Ten years later began a series of almost accidental meetings, some deliberate and others by chance, that caused me to get tangled up with her and her schemes. Most of the time, I was glad to get away with just my hide intact._

_But I always got away with something of value, which pissed her off to no end._

_Of course, she tried paying me back by coming up here to Fresno. But we here in the Great Central Valley are a lot of eccentrics, battle and world weary, and wielders of some of the darkest mojo in the region with one special uniting fact in common... _

_We don't take kindly to being shoved around by self-styled 'superiors'._

_Every time she tried expanding her domain up to here, she got sent back south with her pride and plans rammed squarely and deeply where it was most embarrassing to see—especially for her._

_Served her right for having such a high life, since her family artfully maintained a low profile. It's a wonder the Feds didn't try outing her during the Fifties and Sixties._

_Probably because J. Edgar was too busy elsewhere to notice._

"And now, somebody managed to knock the old witch off on her broom." Fred put in.

"I would hardly say 'someone'." Day responded. "She was solid, very solid down in L.A. This had to have been a group effort, and I could imagine a few who had the muscle to do it."

"Like you." George directly remarked to Day.

Day leaned against the short banister railing. Only three steps separated the entry foyer from the main living room of his home, but Day didn't really want to open himself up to his guests…

At least not yet.

"No." he tiredly said. "Even getting Harry away from the Ministry was a group effort. What happened to Hazel had to have been a joint venture."

"I wonder what the 'Wiz-Net' has to say about it." Fred then off handedly remarked to his brother's open agreement, which made Day sigh slightly.

On one hand, showing them the Wiz-Net back in London did keep the Brothers occupied until they decided to dismantle the Laptops Day left them—so they wouldn't try attacking Sky's set-up. Their curiosity was an admirable trait, but after the third one even their Father had to tell them '_Enough!_'. The Wiz-Net was the best un-Ministry tainted access to the World they all had there, and their Father was afraid that Day would become as enraged as Skywise had—even though the former did take the incidents in stride.

But during the time in the Joke Shop, both McGonagall and Moody did point out with reason to Day that the Brothers were spending more and more time on the WizNet than actively maintaining their appearances. Such was vital towards maintaining the deception needed to fool the Ministry as to their whereabouts. For since discovering who comprised _The Order of the Phoenix, _The Ministry, especially Scrimgeour, was making an effort to find every member they could.

"_To speak with"_, was the official reason. But after what happened with those captured along with Potter at the Weasley home, especially to Hermione Granger, anyone with any connection remaining wanted nothing to do with the Ministry…

Yet Day had to contend with the fact that he had created a monster by giving the boys access to the Wiz-Net, along with the fact that they all wouldn't like being cooped up in his house for the rest of the summer.

Day didn't like it either, but Hazel's downfall really changed everything.

"Alright," Day directly commanded them, "but no lengthy sessions. All of us haft to get out clocks reset to current time, and I don't need any of us falling asleep especially at a time like this—understand."

When they did, he showed them where the computer was before easing himself down onto the small couch against east wall of the converted bedroom. Then nodded off to the sound of keyboard clatter.

The Snooze alarm buzzed, and Harry rolled over to turn it off.

_That was the right button, right?_ He wondered. Big one on the top, right in the middle front of the squat bedside alarm clock, his fuzzy mind tried recalling. Sprawled across the bed in his underwear to fight the heat, concentrated on the fuzzy image with the glowing numbers facing him.

_That was the right one_, he figured. His experience with such was limited to the old wind-ups the Dursley's would discard by occasionally giving to him, sometimes they actually worked but Harry knew to never rely on them too much. These electric clocks, a marvel by themselves with their buttons and levers, however, were simply a little too complex for his tastes. Recalling how Day told him that he needed to press down two of the buttons at once just to set the alarm, then another button to change the method of awaking from 'Radio' to 'Buzz' and a third to set the loudness seemed overly unnecessary. Another matter that had to be contended with was the sweat soaked bed sheets Harry was uncomfortably lying on. The air-conditioning was going, but not going enough to combat the heat that was already creeping in from the outside. All together, working in combination to rudely drag Harry away from sleep, dumping him unnicely back into the real world. But to get himself ready for the different time, as Day explained, he couldn't just sleep for as long as he wanted. At least not yet anyway.

But, the squat box was if anything persistent for attention. Every ten minutes it would buzz loudly and irritatingly, forcing Harry to do something with it. Something constructive enough to make him wake up to finally turn it off, since simply slapping its top wouldn't work for very long.

But when Harry hit it with his still injured hand, the sudden sharp pain quickly dragged him from sleep.

He sat up quickly, clutching his injured member close to his chest until the pain became just an annoying throb coming in time with the repeated buzzing of the alarm—until he viciously beat it to silence with his uninjured one. By then there really wasn't much point in trying to get back to sleep, at least immediately. That would haft to be later. So after fishing his glasses off the bedside table, Harry managed to reach the bathroom as the snooze alarm went off again, which he chose to ignore for other more important things…

The shower was a welcome reprieve from the sweaty feeling, and managed to wake him up enough to last a few more hours. The bathroom was well stocked with towels, but no bandages to replace the first one which was now reduced to a soaking mess. The lack of clothes was another matter that needed to be settled. Harry hadn't brought any along, and all he had was still back at the Ministry. Poking around the drawers in the bedroom with only a towel around his waist, and another around his injured hand, he located numerous items ranging from tools to books to firearms and the occasional odd bit of clothing that really wouldn't suit what he was looking for. But over by the small dresser, next to the closet, there was an unopened bag containing three pairs of men's briefs. Weither or not they'd fit him, Harry didn't care. He wasn't about to walk around in a bath towel in spite the heat, and they'd work with some other clothes found in the closet. Later on, he'd figured on asked Fred or George for a loner outfit seeing that they managed to bring much of their stuff along.

Or, perhaps, they might all go shopping later on.

Not so much for new apparel, Harry wanted to see where he was…

_California…_Nothing short of Voldermort had grabbed his attention so powerfully, leaving him almost giddy with excitement.

People did say he'd go far. Though most likely they didn't mean _traveling._ Still, the thought of it all...

He smiled at his reflection in the mirror. The alarm clock's face flashed _1:30_, and Harry headed out of the room.

Just as he herd Day exclaim from down the darken hallway, "_Do I haft to hit you both with a mallet to get you to sleep?"_

_Fred and George must be at it again_, Harry reflected, and continued on his way to the room in question but stopping to peek in through the door…

Fred and George were seated at, of all things, a fairly decent desktop computer that was running. For the moment, Harry dismissed the notion that the brothers could operate a computer. But with a groggy Day standing over them, the fact didn't appear to be as far-fetched at it appeared.

"We've often stayed up for days working out the complexities of our various creations." Fred told Day matter of factly.

"We can't sleep while the problem's we encounter torment us." George added. "And this one involving that 'Witch Hazel' you told us about is really putting the screws to us."

"Especially with the rumors flying around on the Wiz-Net." Fred added, pointing at the screen.

"She's a fitting mate for the Dark Lord that's bothering Harry." George added in as well.

Day wobbled slightly as he stood there, rubbing the sleep from his eyes while seemingly thinking what to do or say next.

But Harry was riveted to where he was. _Someone like Voldermort over here? _His mind whirled at the possibility before halting at Day's words…

"If Voldermort's anything like he's been described to me, they'd try killing each other for power."

And George nodded back to the computer monitor, "From what we've been reading, that sounds about right."

"So," Fred began, leaning back in a casual way in his seat while folding his arms across his chest, "what do we do about it?"

"I never think too well just after waking up." Day responded. "The Bureau wants to protect us…fine. But there was never any intention of keeping all of you bottled up here."

And after a lengthy sigh, he added, "I think better after a shower and large coffee…Excuse me, and don't go anywhere."

Day almost stumbled as he turned and staggered bleary-eyed out of the room, passing Harry who it appeared to that Day never even noticed…

"Hi Harry." Day mumbled while padding past and down the darken hallway all the way to the far end.

Harry was surprised.

"Quite an interesting man he is, George." Fred remarked.

"A character in every aspect, Fred." George responded, then called out, "Hey Harry, why not come in here a moment?"

He turned around even more surprised to find the Twins smiling at him.

"Ah, there he is—the Man of the Hour."

"Did you enjoy the heat? It's a Hundred and five outside right now."

"Really?" Harry knew there were places in the World were prone to excessive heat during the summer, but never in England did it ever get that hot.

But he never been outside of England before

"Yes." Fred went on. "But that's nothing like that time we spend with the Family in Cairo."

"A Hundred and fifteen." George nodded. "And it stayed like that all the way till sundown."

"Then it dropped to a hundred." Fred finished before turning to Harry. "And as you may have herd from the doorway there, we're in for a spot of trouble."

Harry paused. He nearly said _Voldermort, _but quickly remembered what was being discussed as he approached the room.

"A lovely old hen with her fingers stained red by all manner of evil doings, has been bumped off her throne way down south just two nights ago." Fred began, motioning with his head towards the computer monitor. "Our Host knows her well enough to probably have us move again, and the 'Word' is it would behoove us to pack our things."

"Couldn't be any worse than Voldermort." Harry wondered, approaching them while trying to figure out how they managed to operate a Computer.

"We're not sure." George put in. "Between what those nice chappies from the Bureau told us, Day, and the sordid tales of lust and violence being told about _her_ over the Wiz-Net, I'd say she'd ranks right up there."

Harry leaned forward, squinting to read the text displayed on the computer screen in the harshness of the florescent light. It was like looking at a sheet of notebook paper with very narrow lines that never stopped moving. Each comment generating it's own line followed in shot time by even more comments, almost faster than Harry could read them.

He knew what 'Chat-Rooms' were. Lately, Dudley would 'surf' them on his Computer for all manner of smut. Telling wouldn't have gotten him anything more than a quicker exit from the home than the argument that finally did it, besides, by then he didn't care at all what happened. But keeping up with the posted comments, Harry became aware that all he was seeing was a conversation largely geared towards one-upmanship; with each posting was becoming more and more an elaborate attempt at topping what the other person said. Harry eventually stood up frowning, there would be very little there of interest to him.

"And then," George continued, "there's what we did last night."

George shifted the mouse making the corresponding pointer on the screen shift as well to another rectangular box below all of the postings, and in clicking on it made a second screen cover up the first.

The posting there weren't shifting as fast as the first. But as Harry read them, it became very clear from the vivid detail of what was being posted that their jaunt through the Ministry had gathered a bit too much attention than what was comfortable. First and foremost was the exacting descriptions of both Tamm and the Anti-Christ, and the exacting detail of the cars being American in origin was setting off a wave of 'conspiracy theories' concerning "American Involvement' in the affair. These were put down by others using the logic of _'Anyone can drive a car, if they know how'_, to _'What would America gain from pulling such a shenanigan in the first place'_, to finally (if not simply) '_You're full of_ **[15mp deleted due to vulgarity…"**

Those were often followed by warnings over the usage of 'vulgarities', and threatened restrictions up to outright expulsion from the 'Board' if it didn't stop.

But there were a few that identified the cars to their owners…And some of those identified Day outrightly to his exploits involving the recently disposed Witch Hazel…

'_She's probably heading north to 'visit' with him.'_ One named _**SirFred**_ posted.

'_The natives' anit goin' to let her enter the Big Valley.' _Another named _**Ozwall**_proclaimed. _'The Witch tried three times before, and barely escaped with all her Boytoys' intact.'_

'_Fourth time maybe the charm, buddy.' __**SirFred**_countered.

'_There's a lot of B-Men heading for Fresno, and not for the waters.' _One named _**Buerauman**_countered.

'_Isn't that were Day lives?' __**BadDan**_asked.

"What's going on in here?" Ginny sleepily asked from the doorway.

Wearing an oversized nightshirt while squinting from the light, she totted over to Fred while yawning. Stopping only when she sleepily ran into him.

All Harry could do was exchange worried looks with George.

10


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-three

Fresno.

Day was right; after a shower and a tall iced tea, he could think more clearly.

But it wasn't much, at first.

"The only thing we can do for now is to be aware of our surroundings." Day told them, after the Brother's had changed from the commando jumpsuits to more regular clothing. "There's no real proof that Hazel is coming up here, but still we haft be careful."

At least they weren't going to be cooped up in the house, as they once were at Grimmauld Place. Harry had worried about it because neither Fred nor George liked being held down to one place if they didn't want to for any length of time, especially when there was so much outside to explore. And that made Harry worry even more; they were in America, not England. Things would be different over here, extremely different. It was one matter that the people spoke with different accents, but what if they got into serious trouble and the Police were called? None of them carried identification, and especially none of them had Passports—so on that fact they were in the country illegally. What would happen if they were arrested? Harry wondered, and more specifically what would Day do? Harry couldn't even begin considering the extreme differences between the society he knew of, and what had been presented during those times the Dursley's permitted him the privilege of watching television with them. He knew that which was shown on the Television was false, since the same performers would turn up on different program acting in a different character after being killed in another earlier program. It had taken him a while to get used to the fact that Television was its own separate reality not connected in any way shape, form, or fashion to the World around, but yet people could sit and watch for hours to the point of forming their lives around it for no particular reason at all.

Besides, if America was that violent they all would have certainly herd about it at Hogwarts long before now.

That Harry, or any of them, didn't haft to worry about for too long. For before he lead them to Tamm, Day spoke to them all in the living room.

"First and foremost, please remember that you are in a different land. This isn't England, its America—and everything's different from whatever you're used to. Plus, some people here tend to be a little more twitchy than you'd expect."

"Twitchy?" Ginny wondered.

"More prone to scream, yell, curse, confront, be nasty towards you." Day nodded. "Some would even try calling the Cops, if they feel you've slighted them."

"Cops?" Fred wondered, but Harry knew what Day meant.

He stiffened…

"Police." Day told him simply. "And that's going to be difficult to explain when there's a crowd gathering around to watch what's going on. So let's be careful out there, alright."

They were going out to see the city known as Fresno, California. Or at least pieces of it at a time.

A four-thirty p.m., this city nearly in the center of California starts becoming a congested placed due to all the people wanting to come home from eight hours of sitting behind computer monitors or standing behind counters being friendly with rude customers, even though they rather not. And proceeded to do so in a headlong rush in their cars, causing traffic jam-ups near and around the 'on-ramps' to the freeways of Fresno, where they impatiently blared their horns in anger at other drivers who for some unfathomable reason just slowly dragged themselves into the intersection when the light permitted them to do so. These fits of movement they had to sit through. Day would have loved to have Tamm fly over the mess, or blast his way through it with the weaponry, he seemed to be on the verge of doing the latter when Harry glanced at him during the height of the matter. But after minutes of quietly seething anger, an opening appeared and Tamm raced past a large slow moving SUV to take advantage of escaping from the crowd…

And were soon trapped in the numerous slow downs caused by people gingerly driving their cars into and out from the numerous shopping center parking lots as if they were following the person in front of them, causing even more horns to blare and tempers to flair with the occasional collision happening due to inattentiveness of some drivers.

Day sighed, "This is Thursday, not Friday."

There reasons for that, so Harry figured, but what eluded him so badly he simply dropped the pursuit. There were other things grabbing his attention

Many cars on the road were decorated with a variety of small stickered signs displaying a wide variety of messages of one sort or another. Some proclaimed that they were the proud parents of a student at some area school, there were just so many different schools to keep track of that Harry gave up after the eighth one—though the Twins were making a game out of how many different ones they could spot, and trying to get Ginny interested in it as well. There were also stickers proclaiming 'Bush-Chaney in 00', and likewise "Gore-Lieberman' with the same date. Some warned Drivers that if they could read the sticker, they were too close. Others indicated a phone number to call if they didn't like their driving, rather rudely at that. And a few warned that in case of 'Rapture' the car in question was going to be driverless—which made Harry wonder because he had an ideal of what it meant. And many, many others that were daunting to Fred and George's efforts to catalog. But they would stubbornly keep at it regardless…

While Ginny, completely uninterested, simply leaned back and closed her eyes.

Then there was the cars themselves.

Some were immaculate beyond belief, with mirror surfaces and chrome trim that instantly reflected the sun. Probably why there were several cars driving around with darkened glass, though a few of them had their windows nearly covered with all manor of stickers. A few of these depicted scantly clad women in full or as a silhouettes, which greatly grabbed the Twin's attention even as the car in question turned away down another street.

Unfortunately, Ginny would find herself squeezed and smashed between her brothers when it did happen. And when she finally had enough, she didn't scream—she erupted; "_Will you two settle down!!_"

And that apparently ended it.

There were cars that belched a horrific amount of smoke from their exhausts, and those that seemed to wobble and bounce for no reason-- and on incredibly tiny tires no less. And there were those decorated like Tamm, but in all manner of ways with artwork, though those containing portraits (usually women with long black hair) were well made along with large square dice, assorted billiard balls, rendered pictures of dogs, cats and other animals (usually large vicious ones), but there was the occasional car apparently decorated with arranged designs in dark lines similar to those found in their Hogwarts textbooks concerning magical symbolism.

But Fred and George couldn't tell if the owner of one particularly large car wasn't trying to summon a demon with its decorated symbolism.

And there was the loud music, all sorts of it blasting out of cars, sounds of horns and electric guitars mingling with voices understandable and some foreign. All of it so loud that even Tamm rolling up her windows couldn't completely silence all of it, it was still there as an annoying throb occurring all around them In some cases it sounded like machinery working away on something in a constant pounding way in the car next to them, as someone drawled over the sound in a lackluster manner, or rapidly in others, spewing out their awful attempts at rhyming punctuated with profanity and vulgar references. On such car stayed constantly on the left side of Tamm as the drove southward, it was a long low-slung vehicle occupied by numerous dark skinned youths bedecked in all manner of jewelry—and not showing any care to what others though of their tastes in Music.

Tamm automatically rolled her windows up in defense against the obscene sounds, but it still managed to creep in with the thumping sound that accompanied it. After a few moments of that, Day just waved his hand causing the sound to cease—much to the relief of all in the Car.

"Was that 'Rat' Music?" George asked with profound distaste.

"Rap Music." Day corrected him. "But it might as well be 'Rat'."

Someone snickered from the backseat. As Harry glanced back to see who it was he caught sight of one of the offending car's dark-skinned passengers glancing over at him in a very contemptuous way…

As if 'he' was warning Harry about something that Harry couldn't even begin to fathom. A quick look over his shoulder proved nothing out of the ordinary behind him, but upon returning his gaze back the contemptuous observer started making scissor-like jesters towards him with an even more vile look on his face.

"What?" Fred noticed, wondering what could possibly be wrong with that person…

But it occurred to Harry almost instantly; _Was that a member of a Street Gang?_

Day, however, knew. "Gangers'." He seriously said. "Looks like they want a fight."

"Why?" Ginny exclaimed. "What did we do?"

Day gave a quick glance at Harry before answering; "They don't need a reason."

_Just for an accidental glance?_ That simply struck Harry as being sick reasoning, but now the rest of the passengers in that car were joining in with ruder jesters of their own. And their car started drifting towards Tamm in a very menacing manner.

"Just wonderful." Day remarked.

"Where are the people from the Bureau?" Fred wondered.

"Probably just as screwed as we are in this traffic." Day rudely answered while quickly looking for a way to escape. It was very obvious as to what he meant, for all around them was jammed with slow moving cars that effectively held them in the Boulevard's center lane. To perform even a basic magical defense spell here could very easily result in a serious accident. Day was looking for a side street to dart down, either for escape or to lure the Gangers', now shouting at them in full anger (which they couldn't hear anyway) away from the densely populated road for a very quick fight.

"Happy bunch, aren't they?' Fred commented as he gripped his wand.

"They look to be in a great need of a good knocking down." George agreed, holding his own.

Even Ginny looked determined to face them while holding hers.

That's when the car on their right started slowing down to enter a driveway.

"Hang on!" Day yelled, and suddenly swung Tamm into the opened lane as the gangers, amid the sounds of squealing tires, blaring horns and several crunching sounds followed in close pursuit.

"Hey Fred, "George suddenly piped up, "would you say that this would be an excellent time to see if that special joke spell we've been perfecting really works."

Harry turned back in time to see Fred's face light up with a very wicked grin.

"Oh no!" Ginny wailed. "Not here!"

"At least not on Blackstone!" Day added.

"Then when will we be gittin' off it?" Fred asked.

"About now." Day answered, and slipped Tamm through a very tight turn that placed them on a narrow residential street. The Gangers' made the turn as well, but sloppily. Now they were several lengths back, and trying to close in.

"Ready when you are." Day announced.

The Brothers twisted themselves around to face out through the rear window, as Ginny leaned forward. Day stretched out his right hand across Harry's lap, and it in materialized a gun that looked like a toy ray-gun with a pointed front and a long cylinder resting across most of its top which stuck out considerably in the rear.

_Calico M-950, _Harry spotted engraved on its side before he wondered aloud; "What if it doesn't work?"

"Then I'll let Tamm pepper their car." Day quickly answered.

And that's when Fred and George shouted in unison; "_Disencumber!"_

Thick whitish beams lashed out through Tamm's rear window, striking the Gangers' car's wide front grill…

And suddenly every part of the Gangers' car totally alienated itself from all the other parts of that car. Every nut, screw, washer, plug, fastener, grommet, glued piece, window glass, metal crimp, spot weld, and full weld, right down to the very construction of the tires and safety belts, separated itself from one another into a cascading pile of car parts, gasoline, motor oil, and water on the street.

Day brought Tamm to a halt at the first corner, stepped out of the car, looked back—and started laughing.

For even the garments the Ganger's were wearing had completely dismantled itself down to its very threading. Leaving those who weren't buried under the car's parts standing naked in the middle of the street in a clear state of absolute shock and bewilderment staring at the dismantled remains of their car.

Even Harry was astounded to silence.

"You gotta teach me that!" Harry could hear Day between his laughing, "You just haft to…That was so…incredible!"

The whole purpose of the outing was more than just driving around; Day was trying to give them an ideal of what life was like in Fresno, as well as in the Muggle World. Though the Ganger's they left behind on the street were an accident, Day told them that such threats tend to be exaggerated largely by the entertainment medium.

"It's all _'Monkey see, Monkey do.'_" Day explained, "They want to be noticeable, respected, feared, the Rulers of all Creation... And achieve it by mimicking the performers they idolize on the TV and Movie Screen, acting out in idealized fashion, for their 'toughness' and 'bravery'. Which in the end, only leaves them destitute or dead-- betrayed by the _reality_ that comes with the lifestyle."

"Other Muggles allow them to behave like that?" Ginny found it impossible to believe.

"As long as they don't break the Law in any shape form or fashion, they're tolerated." Day replied. "Even when they make fools out of them selves."

"Which they clearly know how to do." Fred put in.

"Will we run into anymore?" Harry wondered.

After a moments' silence, Day replied, "I don't know…"

An uneasy silence settled in the Car, until Day himself broke it by saying philosophically, "Life is such a mystery, and none can know what lies ahead. Only guess at what there can be. Those that want to know must brave the possible that will confront them no matter what."

Then he turned as best as he could to smile at them all. "So let's go confront it, and have some fun at the same time."

They entered Shopping Malls and Grocery Stores, Arcades and Bookstores, Movie Theaters and Restaurants. At each place, Day had them observe how people behaved, and answered what ever questions the Twins threw at him with apparent easy.

Yes, Day was a Man of this World, Harry reasoned. But Ginny was still distrustful.

George cornered her on it while they were standing in a isle of the television section of a big Electronics store, much larger than any Harry had been in (when the Dursley's had no choice but to take him along on shopping excursions) and not too far from where Day's House was, while Day was explaining the functions of a giant screen television to Fred…

"So who died?" George somberly began to her.

Ginny just glared back.

"Ginny, please…try to enjoy yourself." Her brother gently pleaded, with a sense of earnestly that surprised Harry. "This is all very exciting to be around. Dad would be envious of all of us…Right Harry?"

Caught by surprise, Harry quickly nodded. "He'd be ecstatic, asking millions of questions." Though Harry knew Mr. Weasley would wear out the patience of the Store Clerks with so many questions.

But Ginny's disposition didn't improve. It soured even more.

"I'm not entirely convinced about Mr. Day's sincerity." She firmly stated.

George gave her an exasperated glance. "Are you saying that both Professor McGonagall and Father were taken in?"

That apparently made Ginny uncomfortable.

"Look," George's sternness was surprising to Harry, especially to see him gaze seriously at his younger sister in such a close manner, "Professor McGonagall catches lies as easily as Pig catches moths and whatever to snack on. Fred and I have tried, and we've seen other try too. And some of those _we_ thought were the truth, until she exposed them as lies. There's no way of getting one past her, not at all!"

George straightened himself, and after a quick glance around him added, "Now will you please stop acting like a Prat."

Ginny seemed to consider things, but also it appeared that she wasn't about to change her stance on the matter.

"I'll tell." George crisply mentioned.

Ginny turned blinked in surprise at her brother.

"Look George, give her a chance to get used to things." Harry stepped in, trying to keep his voice under control so not to attract unwanted attention. "Hell, I'm trying to get used to things myself here."

"Then don't narrow your mind." George told him in a subtle matter-of-fact manner, before continuing with a slight smile, "It's what Fred and I do…And we get by."

By the end of that week, Harry realized with George meant by that.

Newspapers, magazines, television news and what could be gotten from the radio, especially the talk shows, the Twins devoured everything they could get their hands on—even if it was Muggle orientated. And if there was something that baffled them, there was Harry, or Day, or the WizNet they could go to--which they, by then, could navigate with professional ease.

Of course, there wouldn't be anything on 'Witch Hazel' found amongst the published media. And the WizNet was constantly going round and round with speculation as to where the infamous lady would be. While the Central Valley was still in the contention, places like Mexico, South America, and a fabled private island (acquired property of a late husband) cropped up as possible locations. But in all, nobody had a clue as to where she was. Day wasn't pleased by that fact, but admitted to them all over a complex Chinese Dinner and the effort to eat it with chopsticks in stead of forks, "Where ever she is, is where she is. It'll do me no good to be frightened of every shadow that crosses my path, in front or behind me."

But there was no hiding the fact that at times Day would appear quiet and aloof, especially when they'd go out. His attention, when not dealing with Ginny's open distrust of him, was focused on everything around him; from the busy streets to everywhere else they went, ever so carefully and unobtrusively as to appear to be not looking.

But Harry noticed. Like the self-styled Dark Lord stalking him, Day had his own version of Voldermort to contend with. Despite what he told them, he had to be worried.

Harry could symphonize…But didn't mention anything to their host. Even if he could, Ginny was always there and interrupting any attempt at a private meeting by sticking close to him every chance she could. It was beginning to become annoying for Harry and her brothers, but Day appeared to weather it well.

But the strain wasn't constantly on them. Usually repeated sessions with the _Driver_ game or any other game on the Playstation worked to break the tension. Foiling the Police in the computerized game of automotive chase certainly had its positive effects, especially when either Fred or George drove the black player-car through the simulated city, using every stunt move they could to foil the Police attempts at catching it by working the small car steering wheel and pressing foot pad, which was the game's controller, at the right times in unison with the gear shift lever. Shooting games went over well, once it was understood that using the foot pedal, instead of dodging or diving out of the way of the opponent's shots, was the best way of avoiding being killed in the Game, (and especially how to properly hold the pistol when firing), the Twins made handy work of the on-screen villains. Harry could, though not as well. But with practice, he was starting to improve his ability to keep his character alive longer.

Ginny unfortunately wasn't quite as adept. And ever since making the accidental discovery of the Cable Porn Channels while innocently toying with the television's hand remote, made it more likely that she'd stay away from _all_ electronic things. Especially since during those frantic minutes of trying to back out of those channels, she accidentally increased the volume to deafening proportions that almost blew out the windows in the living room and most of the house as well. Harry stayed with her in her room, trying to comfort her, while Day and the Twins did their best to deflect attention away from the house by misdirecting the neighbor's searching for the source of those 'particular 'sounds.

From then on, Ginny couldn't even enter the living room without blushing shamed faced. Or even look at the big screen television, even though Day assured her those channels were 'locked out'.

"_Well why do you bloody have em in the first place!" _she screeched back, surprising even her brothers with her vocal magnitude, and went on giving Day the preverbal tongue-lashing lasting several minutes despite attempts by Harry and her brothers to stop…

Because Day prevented them from stopping her.

And when Ginny was done, Day quietly spoke to her; "I'm guilty as charged, so be it…Do you feel better?"

Through the tears Ginny glared at him, while Harry and the Twins just looked at him wonderingly.

"Consider what happened to _you_ an education in the _Unexpected_." He gently continued. "I'm getting one too; it's why all of you are here."

"I thought it was 'Murphy's' doing." Fred critically spoke up.

"_Murphy _is the _Unexpected._" Day replied in controlled tones. "The very Devil in all the details that always springs a surprise when all is believed 'covered'. The only way to deal with it is to be flexible with change, and think on your feet…"

The next couple of days were tense, largely due to Ginny's sour temperament towards Day. He was restrained around them, especially her, but managed to still make the time they all were spending together interesting by imparting his knowledge about the 'Mundane World', as he called it; concerning Governments, Money, Firearms, Foiling thieves...Harry found it all very interesting, especially when Day showed them fastest way to foil an electronic lock by both Magical and non-Magical means down in the elaborate basement of his home.

Actually, it was a small hole accessible by a hidden staircase in the wall opposite of the bedrooms that had been enlarged with an Engorgement Charm until it stretched out farther than the house itself. The reason for that was plainly obvious from what Day down there; a massive arsenal of weapons, each divided up by what it was and stored in their own separate large Lecture Hall sized room along with a shooting range that stretched for miles. There was also a machine shop, equipment storage, a Library full of leather-bounded spell books, (which the door was locked to, much to Fred and George's dismay), and one particular room with a door marked '_Danger' _in bold black lettering

"What is that?" Fred queried.

"_The Danger Room_." Day replied.

"Danger…Room?" George piped in.

"Yes." Day simply answered.

Harry began to wonder over to that door, but found his movements restrained by Ginny gripping his right arm.

She wasn't about to let him approach it.

"What's so dangerous about it?" Fred grinned.

Day paused for a few moments, seemingly thinking up an answer with an amused look about him.

"Depends upon _what_ you do in there." He answered with a cocky smile.

"What _I_ do in there?" Fred was taken back in surprise, who then glanced wonderingly at his brother…

Then to the Door, as they all (but Day) did.

"Come on," George directly pressed Day, "what _is_ so dangerous about _that_ room?"

Day just turned and glanced at him with that cocky smile still on his face. "As I told your brother, "he replied, "_It all depends upon what you do in there."_

_Just as vague as Dumbledore was, _Harry though. While at the same time, he wondered about that door. The one significant thing about it was that it was marked _'Danger' _in bold black lettering across its front, bisecting its else wise plain white surface across the horizontal middle of its plain design.

But Harry knew by now such plain looking things could very well contain very dangerous things…

Like Horcruxes.

"All depending on what _we_ _do_ in there?" Fred continued, looking both confused and curious as to what Day was eluding to.

Day nodded.

"So if my brother and I were just to walk on in there, would anything just happen?"

Day paused, apparently enjoying the moment.

"Depends…"

"On what—"George began, then realized, "Oh, wait…It _depends_ on what we do, right?"

"Right." Day nodded.

Which gave Harry an ideal for his question.

"So what exactly _is _in there?" he asked.

Fred and George looked at him in surprise while Ginny increased her hold over his arm. It was starting to tingle as a result.

Day's smile became much wider.

"In all honestly, "Day replied, "_nothing_."

"_Nothing?_" The Twins exclaimed precisely the same time to Day.

Ginny relaxed her grip on Harry's arm.

Day was still smiling. "Yes, _nothing_."

"So all it is is just some door with _'Danger'_ scrawled on it?" Fred irritatedly remarked.

"No." Day quickly replied. "It's not."

Both Fred and George looked at Day as if he was insane. But Harry was beginning to realize what it all was about.

"It's the _Room_ that's dangerous." He definitely said. "And the danger depends on what we are _doing_ in it."

"_A Room of Requirement?_" squeaked Ginny, at last breaking her long silence.

Day practically beamed at her, making Ginny defensively slide behind Harry even though he meant no harm. The brothers, on the other hand, reacted with amazement and outright embarrassment over their failure to figure the room out. Though, George went the extra distance by slapping a hand over his face while wincing and shaking his head slowly from side to side.

"Of course." Fred quietly said in awe, "What else could it be?"

Day motioned at the Door. "If that's what you call such things in England—"

"Hogwarts…" Fred quietly added, gazing distantly at the Door.

"Hogwarts, right…Well, anyway, it's a special enchantment Sky put together so I could work out problems…Want to see?"

"_Certainly!_" Beamed Fred and George, quickly snapping out of their funk.

"_Certainly!_" Harry mimicked.

"_No!_" Ginny definitely said, and returned to tightly gripping Harry's arm.

"_Ginny!_" Her brothers launched back, while Day simply nodded back to her while saying, "You've been out voted."

Then he strode to the door, while fishing the key to it from his pants pocket as Fred and George eagerly followed. Harry started to, but again was stopped by Ginny.

"What is it with you?" Harry whispered to Ginny, more annoyed with her behavior than with anything else at the moment.

"I don't trust him." Ginny worriedly whispered back to him. "Still don't…"

Even after all that had been said and done, Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes back in disbelief.

But then, he realized that getting frustrated over it wasn't going to make Ginny change her mind over this, or anything else related to Day or the current predicament.

He had to be careful when dealing with her.

"Look, Ginny…" Harry began after the Twins trailed Day into the darken Danger Room, but not quite sure what to say next.

"Just stay with me, ok?" He finally blurted out to Ginny, figuring if anything else his presence may keep her temperament under control. "We'll get through this…together."

Ginny didn't appear convinced at his words, but she wasn't as temperamental—that Harry took as a good sign.

And the ideal occurred to him. "Do you have your wand?"

With a quick glance at the Danger Room's door, Ginny pulled up on her skirt.

Not only did she reveal a significant portion of her legs to Harry, but also her Cherry wood wand taped to the inside of her skirt near the hem vertically with Spell-o-Tape.

"I couldn't figure out how to carry it concealed in my pants," she quickly told him, "and trying the same thing in my blouse was right uncomfortable."

Ginny lowered her skirt with a second nervous look at the door while Harry got him mind back in focus.

"Alright then," He told her, "just stay close to me."

And gripping her left hand, lead her to the door.

17


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-four.

Lessons.

The room was dark, pitch dark, from what could be seen from the doorway.

There was not even a clear sign of Fred, George, or even Day in there—nor even how far back the room went from the door. Harry was ready to ask Ginny for her wand, when Fred's familiar voice called out to them from the darkness.

"Come on…What yer waiting for?"

"Fred?" Harry paused at the door, not knowing what to think, if he could, because Ginny was starting to pull him away from the door.

"Yes it's me." Fred returned in a somewhat indignant manner. "Who'd you think it was…Voldermort?"

"That's definitely Fred." Harry nodded to Ginny.

"Then where is he?" Ginny hissed back, while increasing her hold over Harry. "I don't see him in there at all!"

"That's because you're not looking, Ginevra." George's voice now came from the Void. "You haft to step through the doorway to see."

"NO!" Ginny shouted back. "_I WON'T!!_"

"You will…or we'll come and get you!" Fred sinisterly replied.

"Or we'll tell Mum." George chimed in. "Which ever comes first."

Now Harry looked imploringly to Ginny, who responded with a very angry glare

"Ginny…"

"Harry!" She rasped back.

"Look," Fred suddenly appearing in the doorway said to them both, "as much as you two love each other, this really isn't the place to quarreling."

"So," George picked up, while pushing past his brother, "we've decided to take a hand…Just to move things along with Weaslette here, because she's being a stubborn little prat."

"I am not!" Ginny shot back.

"Yes you are." Fred and George said in unison, while moving past Harry towards Ginny with absolute determination.

"And it's time it stopped." Fred continued with a touch of irritation in his voice.

Harry watched as the brothers rounded in on their little sister, more than determined to stand her ground, moving slightly past before quickly wheeling around while bringing their arms up into Ginny's armpits and quickly hoisted her off the ground much to her surprise.

"Not much, is she…"George commented while lifting.

"Give her a few years." Fred remarked, before smiling mockingly to Ginny with a high voice, _"Coming?"_

And away they went carrying their sister between them and through the door, as she kicked and wailed with all her frantic might.

Harry, rooted there, was just at a loss as he watched them carry her into the room.

Until Fred called back to him, "Now do we haft to get you too?"

Not that he was afraid of them. But Ginny's fear was unreasonable.

And with a deep breath, Harry marched himself to the door…

And stepped into the Void.

The red awning had seen better days, but the store building it was apart of had been boarded up and derelict for years—covered with all manner of painted graffiti and faded paper notices seemed to be everywhere mingled with all sorts of garbage.

Before Harry was a tremendous expanse of parking lot with numerous light posts each with its own concrete barrier at is base. But beyond its very edge was an impenetrable grayish-blue haze that circled the entire parameter of the parking lot…

And standing in the center of the lot, were Fred, George, a very indignant Ginny, and Day with Tamm next to what looked like an off-brown Aston Martian. But on closer inspection, as he approached to their continuing calls, he noticed a second set of doors on the car.

Aston Martian never made a car with four doors, as Harry could recall.

"Will you hurry up, Harry." George yelled to him with some urgency, but it was more a tease since Harry was nearly upon them.

"I'm practically here." Harry remarked walking up. "Where are we?"

"A recreation." Day answered. "Based on an actual place some miles west of here, but perfect for what we'll be doing."

"Which is?" Ginny irritatedly spoke up.

"Driving lessons." Day smiled back.

It was reasonably simple to understand; The Danger Room was similar to The Room of Requirement back at Hogwarts, but only in principle. Day's was made a hundred-fold better; both he and Skywise configured it so that it could recreate any place anywhere at anytime, as he explained. With it, he could work out a good number of specific problems, seeing what worked and what didn't, before actually tackling the real place.

Or in this case, teach them how to handle an American Automobile with out worrying about them tangling with other drivers, or the Law, in ways that could endanger their lives.

"A car crash can be quite hideous." Day explained them. "You really don't want to see the pictures, or watch the movies, that show what happens to both the car and the occupants inside upon contact with immoveable objects while at very high speeds."

"But there's Protective and Avoidance Charms for that sort." George casually tossed out.

"For Magical, not Mundane." Day directly told him. "You'll practice learning how to handle any car here in the Room first, rather than out in the World."

But not with Tamm, at least not at first. That honor fell to a late model brown Ford Maverick sedan that Harry thought was an Aston Martian, but only magiced with a simple damage avoidance charm. Beyond that, it was simply a regular car with differently configured with regards to where the controls where.

"You're going to find cars out there that are either manual transmission, where _you_ haft to shift the gears to gain higher or lower speeds," Day told them matter of factly, " or automatic transmission—where you just set the lever on the 'D' and forget it until it comes time to park the car."

This was directed at all of them, but since Fred and George already had experience and easily showed it in the large parking, it became directed more towards Harry and Ginny who never been behind the wheel of a car until now. Ginny, without a single hint of calming down, raised the fact that Tamm's shifter was on the floor like a regular car's while the Maverick's was on the steering column while both cars had two foot peddles a piece and not three. Day quickly responded that the control configuration was dependent on the designer and manufacturer. And how they operated was different but regardless achieved the same result.

"That's silly." Ginny plainly told Day. "Why not have it all the same?"

When Day glanced over at Harry and the Twins, standing there with bemused looks on their faces, it appeared that he wished he was elsewhere at that moment. But he quickly regained his composure and replied, "Because they are designed by silly people with the belief that they know what is good for us…Now get in the car."

The Maverick was a moderate sized car, neither too big nor too small. Ginny unfortunately proved to be an exception by being so short she could barely see over the dashboard, even with the driver's seat as far forward as possible. So, Fred magically manipulated the seat to where she was high enough to see clearly, but that left Ginny unable to reach the floor pedals with the hard plastic steering wheel pressing against her chest. Finally, after some thirty minutes of sorting everything out, Ginny was cautiously driving the Maverick around the parking lot under Fred's guidance.

Harry smiled while he watched, not because it was funny to see Ginny nearly strike the concrete barriers at the base of each parking lot light pole, (they were quite far apart for each other). He smiled because he was proud of Ginny _trying_ to learn how to handle an automobile, weither or not she'd actually drive one was left to speculation.

George was grinning as well, though probably thinking it was funny.

After a goodly amount of time gaining steady confidence in controlling the car , Ginny slid the Maverick to a stop before them. But she forgot to shift the transmission to 'Park', so when she released the break the sedan lurched forward with her screaming in surprise.

Fred to lean over quickly, and the car came to a final halt.

She wasn't standing very well, clutching the driver's door while half-staggering/half-falling out of the driver's seat so terribly white in the face that George instantly ran over to her.

"I guess it's your turn Harry." Day told him as they started over.

Harry was understandably nervous while sliding behind the Maverick's wheel, but kept it under control while adjusting the seat back so he could sit and reach the controls comfortably.

"Ok, Harry." Fred smiled in anticipation, "Fire her up."

"Right!" Harry smiled right back eagerly. It had been something he wanted to try for a very long time, but of course the Dursley's would have preferred to never show him the intricacy of Automobiles…

Especially how to start them.

Harry sat there gripping the steering wheel wondering what to do next. There was something, yes, he remembered Uncle Vernon doing something on the dash with the key, but what it was he couldn't quite remember. Dudley taking the opportunity to hit him was interfering with the memory, as were the times when Aunt Petunia would lecture him from the front seat some something or another reason.

_Oh hell, what was it! _Harry franticly wondered.

It was something on the dash, right side of the steering wheel.

But the only thing there was a radio and a fold-out ashtray, which Harry opened.

"Um…There." Fred quietly said, pointing at the steering column.

There, just forward of the wheel was a key firmly in some sort of lock jutting out from the column.

"Turn it…"Fred quietly added.

Harry was about to remark that that was a very odd place to place it. But Day had been right, the car was designed by silly people.

He left it at that, and did what Fred told him to do.

The car came to life with a roar that settled down to a steady throb, but would roar every time Harry pressed down on the elongated foot peddle there at his right food.

"That's the Gas, Harry. The one next to it is the Break—for stopping."

_Right to start, left to stop_, Harry nodded understandingly.

And pressed down on the right peddle.

The engine roared, shaking the car. But they weren't going anywhere. George, Ginny and Day were standing there watching and wondering.

_What now? _Harry wondered himself.

"Shift lever, Harry." Fred quietly said, reaching across to tap a bend lever that on the steering column just in front of the gages behind the steering wheel. "Just pull it towards you, then down til' that the arrow there rests on the letter 'D'."

On the top of the steering column were a series of letters and numbers. 'D' was in the middle.

Harry grasped the lever as Fred instructed him to, as Fred began speaking to him again. But as he pulled the lever downward, Harry applied pressure to the gas peddle…

The Maverick suddenly shot backwards when it hit the first notch, 'R', and Harry was flung against the steering wheel with such surprising force his glasses flew right off his face.

"_Break, Harry!! HIT THE BREAK!!_" Fred yelled.

Harry forced himself off of the steering wheel, inadvertently turning it and the Car into a backwards racing slide that came to an abrupt end soon after forcefully jamming his food down on the left peddle. Fred quickly set the lever back into Park while handing Harry his glasses that had slid across the dashboard to his side during the turn. Now, they were facing the abandoned store almost all the way across the parking lot.

And on Harry's side of the car was the concrete base of a light standard, just inches away from the driver's door.

Harry quietly stared at it, and nothing else.

"Well…" Fred grinned, regaining some of his composure. "That…was exciting."

The dynamics of Brooms and Automobiles soon became apparent to Harry, while he drove around the parking lot.

Brooms didn't require anything more than a sufficient understanding of magic and balance while using them to fly. Turning was simply done by leaning with one's body while pulling on the body, while increasing and decreasing were all achieved by one's will.

Automobiles required more physically of the handler; turning the steering wheel, applying the gas and breaks, even using the shifting lever, all required direct physical action. But most of all, Harry had to develop a sense of _safe distance_ to avoid running into the concrete bases and keep the Maverick off of the fading parking stall lines. The only time he ever had to do such a thing was while playing Quidditch, searching for and having to dodge around players and Bludgers for the Golden Snitch. Other than that, there was no worry about crashing into things while flying. But driving, especially coming out of a turn while accelerating and nearly hitting the concrete barriers on occasion, prompted the application. And when doing so, the number of near-misses decreased much to Harry's and Fred's comfort.

Also, one more thing began to occur to Harry; _Confidence._

It wasn't like he was naturally disposed to flying a broom. But the more he drove, the more he became confident in being able to handle the Car. And the more sessions in the Danger Room they had, the more confidence Harry (and eventually Ginny) had in being able to control the vehicle no matter what Day (or Fred and George, when they figured out how to do it) arranged to throw at them in the simulation. Weather it be a parking lot full of moving cars and blissfully wandering shoppers, or dealing with the freeway at the height of rush hour, the developed abilities of being able to trust themselves to handle whatever matter that came up grew significantly with every trial.

And this was extended into other areas as well.

There is no doubt that you've noticed I use a Browning and not a Wand, like you do." Day explained to them at the shooting range portion of his basement. "And I personally know that you've seen me call it to my hand, like this."

Day flipped his hand out, and suddenly the handgun appeared readily in his grip.

The Twins appeared fascinated, Ginny was simply aghast. But Harry simply smiled, remembering the conversation between Hermione and Day that particular day in London traffic so long ago…

_Wandless magic_. She would have been beside herself in disbelief at the sight just witnesses by all of them there.

_Would she still?_ Harry wondered when remembering. There hadn't been much word, even when McGonagall did call with news. Mrs. Weasley and Ron were doing fine, nearly back to themselves as so remarked…

But Hermione was having a difficult time. The damage was re-routeable, the Professor explained, and had been by the first week of their stay. But she had to relearn everything; form how to tend to herself to how to walk, talk, and remember. She was still a voracious reader, but Ron had to help her out at times.

_BLAM!!_

Harry jumped.

"Now you see," Day continued to them, "these things are quite loud, and prone to what is known as _recoil. _ The larger the caliber, the greater the recoil—"

"Why?" Ginny suddenly piped up.

Day seemed stunned by the question , but only for a moment.

"Physics." He responded, "The larger calibers have a larger powder charge…"

"No." Ginny crossly began, "Why are you showing us these things? We use magic, not firearms or cars."

"Ginny." Fred annoyed said under his breath, as George frowned at his sister.

But Day, again, bade them not to interfere—and dealt with Ginny directly. "My dear, while Magic is nice and wonderful to have it's not altogether wise to simply rely upon it all the time."

Ginny gazed at him wonderingly, as he sat the Browning Hi-Power down on the table next to him.

"There are going to be times when you cannot whip out the Wand, say the incantation, and solve the problem. "Day began. "_Especially if you are around people who haven't a clue as to who you really are._ If there is anything that _will_ get you plenty of trouble, that will be it."

"Like doing magic around Muggles." George spoke up. "Dad always warned us about that."

"And he's a good man for doing so." Day properly nodded to him. "Many a user, be they because they innocently wanted to help out in a bad situation, or for a sick thrill-of-the-moment show,like some around here who especially like to teleport in front of churches who's sermon of the day involves the Rapture and the damnation said to follow its wake. They like to wait until the worshipers are leaving, and go _blip _right in front of the whole congregation."

Harry had some ideal of what Day was speaking about. He cringed slightly while imagining the calamity that occurred.

"Anyway, what happens to them, if they get identified, is that they usually receive a visit from some nicely dressed men who only act like they have a sense of humor—and sometimes are never seen again." Day finished. "So, they whole point behind all of this is for you to develop the means to act like a Mundane, or, as you know, a Muggle; they drive cars, they shoot guns, they become irate when the ATM breaks down when they need money badly, or become frantic with they can't find something they desperately need in short order—all of the things we've been doing since we arrived have been geared towards creating an understanding in all of you about life outside of your own world."

The Twins nodded acceptingly, understanding everything. Harry had spent most of his life in that very world…

Ginny though was immoveable on the matter.

But before she could say something, anything, more, Day addressed her directly in a very honest manner. "I know what you're dealing with in your world right now. It's an evil you can't ignore or run from, and still keep a clear conscience about it—like the Ministry has in your country.

"So, I'm doing everything I can to give you an edge in this case, which would be what Voldermort or his Crew would expect _you_ to do. It may not be what you'd expect, or initially like in any case…But…"

He gazed down upon Ginny with the forming of a rye smile on his face before adding. "I really don't think Voldermort would expect or like them either."

11


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-five.

Very Bad News.

_But oh, was I scared…_

_Voldermort, Hazel, the whole nine yards. It all made good motivation for me to teach them about the World beyond; how to get around in it, and how to defend themselves in it—especially with the tricks Sky passed along to me about Wandless Magic. That alone would be especially helpful against a group that despises all Mundane things, and would expect the other side to act like good little wizards and witches—not to suddenly vanish into a crowd, eat fast food, argue with ATM Machines, and use firearms._

_Granted, there are defensive spells to defeat the latter. But, they are only useful if such weaponry is expected by the other side. And considering things, guns wouldn't be expected right off—giving the good guys a half-minute advantage before the villains gather their wits for a counter attack._

_ But the added burden of juggling a shield spell, along with their attacks, still leaves them vulnerable to a point in battle. Powerful wizards can do it, as long as they don't suffer major amounts of distraction (injured fellows screaming for help is a good example) which could ruin it for them easily. Then again, Voldermort's bunch doesn't strike me as the compassionate sort of group. They're more like sharks; they get a long fine and dandy with each other until one of them start bleeding._

_But, again, this is what I hear. Having no time to really study them, beyond picking Moody's battle-scarred brain during those few and far-between times during the planning of Harry's escape really leaves me in a quandary on the matter… _

_Like Snape…_

_The unmentionable person that made Harry suddenly become very cold towards one of his dearest friends, was the badest of the bad in his mind. Bad enough to betray all those who trusted him within the Order of the Phoenix, as a double spy no less, and destroy them quite literally with one highly calculated slice—all for his Master, Lord Voldermort._

_Oh I herd a lot about him, from Harry and several of those former friends. _

_Yet, I am totally dumbfounded by the man's behavior._

_When Harry first became a Hogwarts' student, there was the matter of the Sorcerer's Stone. Voldermort, as it turned out, wanted this Alchemist's jewel for its ability to produce a life prolonging elixir which would have helped him return faster than drinking Unicorn's blood. Snape was among those professors who designed the elaborate defenses for the Stone, his Logic Puzzle is a stroke of sheer genius, a Sabot that binds up the plans of any thief by way of it's surprising presence. But in hearing the adventure from Harry, I was left wondering why he didn't blow through the defenses, (which he was more than capable of doing, Fluffy not in counting), and get the stone for his Master…_

_Or, simply make him one. His skills were highly compatible to the project's scope…_

_Yet he didn't._

_Nor did he fudge Harry's desperate message about his Godfather being tortured at the Ministry that fateful night. His attitude towards Umbridge, not withstanding, was pale compared to his feelings towards one Sirius Black. Yet, not only did he keep what Harry so dramatically mentioned right in front of Umbridge a secret (which at that moment was all Umbridge needed to burn Harry at the stake) but delivered the message to Dumbledore—thus thwarting Voldermort's plan at the Ministry._

_He could have also arranged for Harry to be kidnapped from Hogwarts, which could be easily done; a dash of some time-activated narcotic, administered stealthily so that Harry would fall victim at that right place (perhaps on his way to serving detention) and be gathered up by other Voldermort agents who'd enter and leave Hogwarts by one of the secret passages so depicted on the Marauder's Map—which an agent of Voldermort, disguised as Moody, actually had in his possession for several weeks. _

_Long enough to copy…_

_Yet again, he didn't._

_Even for one who could lie right in God's face and get away with it, he didn't even try._

_And that's where it falls down, at least in my mind._

_Snape isn't just a double agent, working the line between Dumbledore and Voldermort, I have the feeling he's working his own game into this boiling cauldron of misery. The Grand Conductor, playing both sides to their shattering climax to better effect his own escape from the destruction…_

_No, wait…_

_I just don't know._

_I need more time with this, even while keeping watch for Hazel._

_As days turned to weeks, Fred, George, and Harry became accustomed to the Mundane World—the American side of it at least. Language, mannerism, even real driving skills on the Road and being able to spot the Bureau Agents keeping watch over them either from their big black cars or keeping track of who was around them whenever we went out on occasion. They even got a suntan out of it, the color did them good._

_Ginny was too, but kicking and screaming the whole time in a figurative way. I don't know what caused this to happen. Everything was peaches and crème right up til' we left England, now even her brothers are at whit's end with her behavior. Me, myself, and I resolve to stick it out for the remaining two weeks before the Start of Term at Hogwarts. _

_I don't need to be wound up now by Ginny's attitude. Thankfully Harry's right there, deflecting most of her anger while keeping her reasonably civil whenever we do the town. I need my wit's ready for the return to England, and the 'reception' I'm expecting to get from the Ministry. From the news I'm getting from the WizNet about the Ministry's newest (harshest as some call it) ways of dealing with Voldermort's captured followers (if they actually ever were. Most likely they're nothing more than critics of the Ministry), I certainly hope Bone's willing to stick it out there for me in the end. _

_There's nothing worse than being used, especially by those who set you up to do an important task. I've dealt with that before, more than once in fact…_

_I have the scars to prove it._

_Harry is taking it well, with regards to whoever is impersonating him. Actually, he doesn't care a wit, from what I can see, on the matter. But Percy Weasley going to be getting a very rude visit from his brothers. That I can tell when they see the news of his 'Kicking Ass and Taking Names' exploits against reported Death Eaters. And what they whisper between themselves on the matter is exceedingly dark._

_September is definitely shaping up to be eventful, yes—sir—ree._

_But coming back to the reality of the current moment, while fixing iced teas in the kitchen as the kids are watching the latest global news, I see them react with varying degrees of astonishment and humor at something occurring to some business in England. Especially Harry. Of all, he's the one that gets the closest to the Plasma..._

_And the one who turns the volume up._

"—_reportedly, the deal would have insured Grunnings Drills and Machinery a secure place within the structure of Ridgemon International Manufacturing's hierarchy. But details have arisen concerning serious faults within the documents concerning the agreements, written up by Vernon and Dudley Dursley, which have reportedly cost both companies billions of dollars in lost business revenue—"_

"_Isn't it wonderful to see such nasty people end up in a bad way, Harry?" Fred broadly smiled._

"_Especially from being greedy." George chimed in. "Bet they tried getting a nice lot of loot for themselves before anyone else could."_

_But Harry didn't reply, or move from the screen. Their pictures were posted like wanted posters behind the newscaster. All three of them._

"_British police are currently looking for Vernon Dursley, his son Dudley Dursley, and wife Petunia Dursley, who had been staying with relatives since the mysterious destruction of their home in Little Whinging several weeks ago…"_

_Which made Fred and George grin like demons._

"_Charges have yet to be file in the Case. But sources close to the investigation indicate that that will be occurring soon. Authorities on the European Continent have been put on alert, and all passengers using the Chunnel will expect delays because of this matter."_

"_Aren't you soooo glad to be out of that dreadful place?" George cheerfully asked Harry, who was now moving back from the screen now that the story was over. He didn't say anything at first, just sat there in a sort of shock even as I set the tall iced tea glass down on the coffee table in front of him. After a few minutes, in which even the twins were becoming concerned (Ginny was already next to Harry), Harry slowly snapped out of it._

"_Sorry", he apologized, "Quite surprising, wasn't it."_

_As it turned out, the effect of the Dursley matter on Harry was the least of my worries._

_There was his Owl, and Ron and Hermione._

_But later on Hedwig._

_In the communications from upper New York State, Hermione's condition was beginning to improve to the point where she didn't need Ron or anyone else to help her—least of all to read. _

_Speech and memory-recall were another matter entirely. _

_She could master lengthy sentences, but speak them slowly. Speed made her forget and stammer, which flustered and distressed her to fits of crying that darkened Ron's already positively dark mood even further. You could hear it in his voice over the telephone, and see it in his manner when Doc managed to swing time with the Institute's Broadcaster tuned to my Plasma TV._

_He was short with his temper, almost to the point of being utterly nasty with his older brothers when they made seemingly innocent remarks, touching off a good number of verbal rows between them with little effort. Lately, we've been able to keep such incidents to a tense minimal, but it was easy to see his mind, and feelings were solidly on Hermione and not on his brothers or parents. _

_Harry rose to the challenge of keeping things under quick control, by being able to calm down both sides, with Ginny's aid, that headed off what would have been a royal flame war between him and his brothers on a few occasions while I hung back in case things really got nasty. Harry got them to chill quite nicely without my help. That kid's certainly born for greatness…_

_But I'm leery of showing Ron what the others already know. That boy's just dying to flatten something, and I'm not about to teach him anything he can use to achieve that goal. If he comes here…_

_Granted, he'll be behind the others. But there's no doubt he'll play a vicious game of catch-up._

_Then, around the fifth video conference, where both Ron and Hermione shared the screen with Crookshanks resting comfortably on Hermione's lap, Ginny wanted to ask her Mother a question…_

"_Mum's not here, Ginny." Ron flatly replied._

"_T-they're..at..Hog-warts." Hermione got out with surprising quickness._

_And with equally surprising quickness, the Twins beat us all with their shocked reaction. The rest of us caught up a heartbeat later, but couldn't defeat them at shouting._

"_HOGWARTS!!"_

"_WHAT IN THE HELL—"_

"_KNOCK IT OFF, BOTH OF YOU!!" Ron shot directly back at them, causing Hermione to jump quite suddenly that poor startled Crookshanks got catapulted towards the camera._

_This touched off another word war between the brothers, which between Harry, Ginny, and me lasted for a good ten minutes before things were under some sort of control._

"_It was what Mum wanted." Ron frowned bitterly while explaining. "The woods out here don't seem to agree with her, so she, Dad, Moody, McGonagall and Sky went back to England."_

_Formable group, but Bone's still going to have a fit when hearing about this—or so I though…_

"_The Bureau arranged for it." Ron added._

"_Every..thing." Hermione added with a sure nod._

"_Who arranged it?" Harry asked._

_Ron just looked at him like he was nuts. But it was Hermione who answered as best as she could, "Den-nis, Mis-ter Bone's a-asist-ant…S-shar-ply dress-ed black man with dred-locks…"_

_Now Harry looked at me. Yea, that was Bone's Assistant—and anyone else in disguise._

_That made me go to the phone._

"_What's the big deal?" Ron started wondering. "Even Moody said he was real."_

_That doesn't mean spit. Moody's not God, and Sky isn't invincible._

_I had to be sure, and that meant a call to Sky's cellphone._

_If it wasn't him who answered it, I'd know._

_And after five rings; "Goddammit, boy! What is it now!?"_

_Everything was apparently fine. And when Sky calmed down, he filled in the blanks._

"_The Misses was making good headway, but homesick—terribly homesick. So, Doc got a hold of Bone and he arranged for transport with protection._

"_Now Hogwarts," he added in that not so subtle way of his, " that's something I'm working on. I anit sayin' what because its goin'ta be a surprise."_

_As if it's not already._

"_Couldn't you have at lest told us?" Ginny sharply put in, before I could even say anything._

"_No!" was Skywise's reply, and he hung-up._

_In that mood, it'll be a week before he'll speak to me again._

"_Nice, Ginny." Fred sarcastically smiled at her with his brother, "Very…nice."_

"_See." Ron called from the Plasma. "I told you so."_

_On a better note, Harry and Hedwig had patched up their differences. But I was very reluctant to allow the snowy white owl to fly around loose outside, even at night. The problem was what Hedwig was; a big, perfectly white owl—very rare this far south. Such a sight would bring out the Bird Watchers, Animal Control Officers (Owl's aren't considered 'legal' to own out here in California), the News Media, and any sick freak eager for an 'unusual trophy' with the bragging rights to go along with it._

_(While I personally have nothing against Guns, I will admit that there are those who have such who never should have ever been allowed such in the first place because they spoil actively spoil the pleasure of having such due to their behavior with such.)_

_I'd let Hedwig fly around inside the house, and made said offer to Harry on the matter. Since any mess could be cleaned up with a dose of diluted Pine-Sol and a vacuum cleaner. But Harry pointed out the hazards of the ceiling fans, located in most of the rooms, whirling silently away while moving the air around. A definite must for Fresno summers, since Central Air can't do it all by itself. The fan's blades were presswood attached to a metal frame. If Hedwig flew a little too close, it would be similar to a human being bashed in the head by an all wood baseball bat wielded by a professional bodybuilder. Downdrafts and vortices caused by the fans moving the air was another matter, making Hedwig resort to hopping about the living room and kitchen like a squawking bunny rabbit at times._

_The matter was finally settled by letting her fly in the only areas that didn't have ceiling fans; the Garage and the corridor leading to the bedrooms. She may not get up to speed, but traveling back and forth repeatedly let her stretch her wings as much as she would…_

_And the vacuum was quite capable of dealing with the feathers._

_And, there were other matters._

_Like said, I had been teaching them how to 'Call' items. Or, what they'd call either 'Materialize' or 'Summoning'—Wandless Magic in the extreme. All it takes is concentration, and whatever you focused on appears in your hands. No different than back in the days of their childhood when they unknowingly used their magical ability to protect themselves from harm._

_Perfectly simple._

_However, it's not easy to unlearn what you've been taught for practically all your life—which is the reliance on the Wand for conjuring. Getting past that self-imposed barrier was a fight they all succeeded at by wearing it down over the course of weeks. The Twins were first, though they were more analytical than Harry or Ginny. With them, I had to explain the psychological aspects of the form in great detail—often going over things several times._

_Then, just this past week, they broke through. Paper, pencils, books, video tapes (some still in their shrink wrap), stuff I know I've seen them admire in stores, along with several copies of Playboy magazine, started appearing around the house. All innocent I know._

_But when the latest model of the Ferrari 308 sports car 'suddenly' appeared before them in the living room, I just had to draw the line._

"_But can we keep it?" George innocently asked._

"_Not without getting in trouble with the Bureau." I quickly replied, not yet fully over the shock._

_Harry and Ginny were wisely staying out of this. In fact, Harry was holding Ginny who somehow managed a twisting horizontal leap to land on to his lap when the Ferrari arrived just scant feet in front of the couch they were sitting on. Crunching the coffee table their feet had been under just moments before. _

_On occasion, we would get visits from Fred and Barney—as I came to calling them. "Nothing serious." Fredricks would explain with that wide, sinister smile of his while Barnabus would stand quietly behind him and occasionally turn his head from side to side, "Just checking on the kids' welfare." _

_The problem was, they came at absolutely odd times. Morning, noon, or night, they'd knock on the door or make a surprise appearance when we were out and about on the town. Though we could spot them before they arrived. _

_They even came soon after the twins dealt with that Street Gang that had tried chasing us down. They weren't too pleased with the mess, but expressed gratefulness that it hadn't happened in a more public area._

_Getting back to the Ferrari, what I didn't need was for Fred and Barney to walk right in, or come knocking on my door, while it was still here._

"_Can you send it back?" I hopefully ask. It shouldn't take too much effort to put the car back where they found it, since they had to visualize where it originally was to move it to where it now is; my living room. _

_Fred was about to answer when lo and behold guess who marched into my home…_

_You could have herd a pin drop as Fredricks removed his glasses while gazing at the Ferrari for a few moments. Then he turned and asked me; "You have homes in Old Fig Garden, correct?"_

_I nodded._

"_Anywhere else?"_

_Now the kids were giving me worried looks._

_It was time to turn the conversation around. "What's going on?"_

_Fredricks didn't say a thing as he reached into his jacket, pulling out a folded piece of white paper which he unfolded and gave to me._

"_Recognize it?" he asked knowingly._

_Oh boy did I. The elliptical circle with three outcroppings, one rising up from the center before curving back downwardly in a gentle arch and the two heading downwards from the end of the elliptical doing the same but heading upward…_

_Hazel's Sigel. _

"_It was detected on two properties in Old Fig Garden." Fredricks informed me._

"_We haven't found it here—"_

_Yes, because this place was newer by two years. Purchased originally as a Rental, then bought when the option presented itself._

_"Then Hazel's trying to find me." I interrupted him._

_The Twins became grim, while Ginny latched onto a very stoic looking Harry._

_But then he's used to this._

_"Personally, I want all of you out of here." Fredricks flatly stated. "But the Bureau is hesitant. There's no real evidence that Hazel's even up here. But I don't like playing the odds."_

_Neither do I, when I can help it._

_I eye the Ferrari…_

_"Tell Bone I'll consider it. And have him get a hold of the others in New York…Tell them they may have visitors."_

_Discretion is the better part of valor. I'd go after Hazel with a few of the locals, just to be rid of her once and for all. Can't do it with the kids around. In fact, I don't even want her knowing they're here._

_Getting them out takes precedence. I'll deal with Hazel later._

_Turning to leave, Fredricks points out to me, "Nice Ferrari."_

_"Thanks." I say_

_The phone rings…_

_The Twins grin sheepishly._

_"Too bad about the coffee table though." He adds while putting his sunglasses on "Looks like it got clipped by the left rear tire."_

_Nice, but I'll deal with it later. I don't need to tell the kids we're leaving; they're bright enough to realize it…_

_Then he turns to Harry with Ginny still on his lap._

_"You know you shouldn't be doing that in public." He tells them._

_But after the fourth ring, the answering machine kicks in with a recognizable voice asking me a question; "Hey Day-man. You have'in trouble with your Gate? People down here in the Tower can't use theirs at all."_

_And that stopped everything._

_Somehow, Hazel managed to set up a Dampener Enchantment, possibly blocking off all Gates in Fresno. Worst, calls around the community go unanswered. And both Sky's and Doc's cellphones aren't responding. That alone, if anything else, pretty much ditched plans for a fast getaway._

"_We could Aspirate away." Fred suggested._

"_Nice, but how fast can you run while removing the Trace she'll have marked you with? That's how she was able to bag two of my late friends." I ask. "Physical travel is the only way of escaping from this…But…"_

_The thought just occurred to me; We can't run. Hazel wouldn't have set the Dampener in place without figuring that we would attempt escaping once it was in place… There would be a Snare as well, that would drop us right into her lap if we tried. And the best place for those would be along the Dampener's Border, or as part of the initial barrier. _

_Cross that, she'd have us. Oh, she laid this out beautifully…_

_But it, like all her schemes, was reliant upon redundant items…_

_The Dampener's Anchors... _

_Disrupt enough of them, the whole Field goes down._

_Fredricks was having difficulty conferring on his cellphone in the kitchen while Barnabus stands in the foyer as a silent sentinel watching over us all, when I announced this simple fact. _

_It stopped Fredricks in mid-sentence, and had him gazing at me in astonishment. _

"_We could fly out." Harry quickly suggested. _

_Of course not in daytime on brooms, but I almost forgot that Harry ranks amongst those who've active lived in both worlds._

_Airplane…Nice ideal though. Which I cut down by stating that Hazel would have prepared for that possible route of escape as well._

_And get back to the task at hand._

"_It all depends on where the Anchors are for the Dampener." I tell him as the others listen, "I'm betting recently sold homes, but where is going to take a lot of research with a City Map, the Newspaper Home Ads, and the Internet. And we'd better get the Dampener's boundary right, or we'll pay Hazel an unintended visit."_

15


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26.

Hunting Hazel.

_I haft to admire the kids; they weren't going to go down without a fight. Fred and George, along with Harry and Ginny, weren't taking 'No' for an answer. They'd kept coming up with a multitude of schemes they figured would get around Hazel's Dampener—that I, sadly, would shoot down from the experience of seeing other's try those very same things. _

_But they weren't deterred. They were damn well going to solve this locked box puzzle with their abilities—even as I directed them to do specific tasks._

_Fred and George hopped on the Computer. It has enough memory and a powerful enough processor to run several screens simultaneously, so while watching the WizNet Posts for anything concerning Hazel and the Dampener they were also plying through the Homes for Sale ads for all of Fresno County—which is what Harry and Ginny were doing as well, but pulling that information out of all the newspapers received since their arrival._

_I saved such for recycling; it gives me a little extra coin. I also cut out articles of interest. Such things are worth more than their weight in gold. Plus, Hazel had plenty of time to set up a really big area, possibly the entire county form mountain range to mountain range, to be effected by the Dampener—or at least I figure. _

_If not, then we can work downward. But her choice of layout was well known; a Pentacle in a double circle, requiring thirty Anchor-points to properly govern the stability of the field—regardless of weither it was big or small. With Fredricks, while Barnabus was covering our backs, I plotted out the locations of the numerous parcels on a double sided folding map of Fresno City (on one side) and Fresno County (on the other side)…_

"You know, two maps would be better." Fredricks mentioned.

The unfolded map both he and Day hovered over almost took over the entire top of the kitchen table, and flattened out by the means of paper-weights and large stones from the backyard along its edge.

"They need the other one." Day muttered, pointing at Harry and Ginny who were using the Ferrari as a work table. Two bundled stacks of newspapers were freed from their confinement by Harry's pocketknife, before he and Ginny separated out the Home-buyer section from the rest of the newspaper. The latter portions were put on the sportcar's roof as Ginny laid out the desired sections on the hood, one on top of the other.

This bothered Harry.

"Ginny," he whispered to her, "it wont do us any good if we mix them all together like that."

But Ginny just smiled back at him.

"Just something Mum taught me for quickly sorting things." She briskly stated.

_A trick? _ Was all Harry could wonder while watching her neatly arrange the open newspaper sections into a perfectly aligned stack

When all of the sections were in place, he watched as Ginny drew her wand from her skirt and slowly swirled it over the stack while softly chanting; "_Genus quod Organize, per haud effingo"_

Much to Harry's surprise, the stack began rustling. Pages fluttered quickly, sometimes violently as if being attacked by a gust of wind, but the stack remained on the Ferrari's sloped hood until the motions stopped. But Harry saw to his amazement the printed text on the foremost sheet rapidly rearrange itself like cake batter being blended in a mixing bowl. The little announcements in their separate boxes swirled about, some rising upward from the far left side of the opened page as others vanished downward on the far right while Ginny named off the cities and communities that either surrounded Fresno or were in Fresno County from the second map Day had given them.

Minutes later, the stirring stopped and the pages stopped fluttering.

"_Totus!"_ Ginny finally added with a quick flick of her wand, and twenty sheets folded over on themselves.

Ginny then slipped her wand into her blouse and simply picked the folded sheets up, as a speechless Harry simply watched.

"It's how the Wizarding Families in and around St. Catchpole share recipes." Ginny smiled at him before heading to the kitchen table.

"Oh, right…Of course." Harry gently said before following.

It was almost nightfall when George emerged from the Computer Room, carrying a nearly used up note pad.

"If my Brother and I have figured this right," He said, approaching the kitchen table, "then Hazel's magic may not extend beyond the limits of Fresno itself."

Harry, Ginny, Day, and Fredricks all looked up from the County map at George as he prepared to explain.

"A goodly number of locals posting on WizNet are already doing what you're doing." He began explaining. "What they've found out is that is impossible to Aspirate in most of Fresno, and places called Calwa and South Clovis. But, it's very possible to Aspirate in North Clovis, Malaga, Kerman, Centerville, Madera, and Fowler—even on the north side of Woodward Park, which is just up the street."

_Just up the street, about a half-mile. _Had it been a half-mile in the other direction, Harry knew they would have been captured.

But a mile more further to the south, they would have been clear.

It was close, so awfully close…

"If Woodward's the northern most edge of the Dampener, "Day began to draw on the map a sweeping curve, "And, we're here…"

Everyone at the table watched as he started drawing out the form of a precise pentacle with its surrounding circles, by linking the lines up to the pin's representing recently sold properties on the map. When finished, the drawing was perfectly proportioned on all its sides. With several of the pins resting on the drawn lines in perfectly aligned positions to one another.

"Right now, she knows were all of the Mages are with in her Field. And is most likely now either identifying them, or eliminating them altogether from the scean. It would explain why we couldn't contact some of them. It's another facet of how Hazel sets her Pentacles up..."

Harry and Ginny simply stared at it in amazement.

"Impressive." Fredricks acknowledged.

"She never did anything half-way." Day commented.

"So now what?" Harry wondered, glancing at Day.

After inhaling, Day did explain, "What we have here is an estimation of where the Anchorages of Hazel's Dampener are located, not only where the lines come together at a point but where they cross and bisect the outer circles at a Forty-five degree angle line drawn outward from the corners of the Pentagon formed in the symbol's center. The outer circle is additionally supported by more Anchors located in the same fashion, and with those set directly in line with the points of the star they enclose."

"So everything with-in the outer circle is contained by the Dampener?" Ginny asked, pointing at the map.

Day nodded. "In varying degrees of containment, lighter to stronger form the edge towards the center. But anyone at the outer edge of the symbol, like us, is still libel to be snared if attempting to leave the area physically—or tagged and followed if they try leaving magically. It depends on what her moods are at the moment."

That, Day added with an intense frown.

"And like a Spider sitting in its web, she would be in its center." Fredricks reasoned, readying his cellphone for use.

"If she's there, that is." Day murmured.

Fredricks paused, wondering.

Harry and Ginny just glanced at each other. And Ginny was becoming irritated.

"Would you like to tell us everything in one fell swoop, please?" She directly said to Day. "I can only take so much of all this shifting around you tends to do."

Day became exasperated; he finally had enough, as far as Harry could see of Ginny's behavior, in that one clear moment before his self-control took over in the presence of Agent Fredricks—who was ready to step in if Day lost his temper.

"The reason I say what I say about Hazel, "Day slowly began with duress, "is because she learned long ago that the best way to really screw up your enemies is by behaving in ways they won't expect—which is exactly what I've been trying to teach you the whole time you've been here."

After a few moments of composing himself under Ginny's critical eyes, Day continued; "The beauty of her designs, learned at numerous feet, knees, and a few eager laps, is that _she needn't be anywhere in or near them to know what's going on with in them. _For all intensive purposes, she could be right now sunning her butt on a private beach in Pango-Pango, or skiing off the ice slopes of Mount Everest, or maybe she's taking in the sights of Paris as a tourist—_I DON'T KNOW!_

"But." He quietly added after the eruption, "cross any of the lines leaving her web and—"He suddenly, loudly, snapped his fingers that made even Ginny jump with surprise, _"she'll know." _

"What we haft to do then is to find the Anchor's for the Dampener and destroy them. Starting with the nearest one first.

"Hazel's very fond of the Pentacle within the double circle, and uses it as her magical foci." Day continued. "But for smaller versions, she'll put protective inscriptions around the Dampener's Anchors, usually in the empty space between the circles utilizing Native American Shamanistic symbols as the defense against intrusion.

"Most likely they're Sleep charm, but I wouldn't rule out a Snare as well, which only Hazel knows how to dispel, wrapped around a Notifyer that'll tell her someone tried disturbing her 'work'. She won't kill the person who tries, not without having some 'fun' with them first"

"So how can we defeat it?" Harry asked. They didn't cover such things in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. In fact, he'd never herd of other such forms of Magic before coming to America. Hermione would have possibly known, considering how many books in the Hogwarts Library she read already. But her injuries would have kept her from being useful.

This left him and Ginny too, from her reaction, at a serious loss as to what to do.

"How well do you know Scott Joplin?" Day asked him.

Harry paused. The name was familiar…Something to do with a piano…

And Fredricks stepped in; "The Ragtime Composer?"

It still didn't resonate with Harry. But he did recall a movie by the same name, shown on television a long time ago. It depicted several black men blowing up vintage firehouses for a reason he couldn't recall.

Ginny was looking at him, hoping for some clue to emerge from him to what the Americans were talking about.

Day nodded smilingly. "She's utterly nuts about Ragtime music, and has worn out so many copied of _The Sting_ over the years she can quote every piece of dialog in the movie—backwards and forwards."

Harry suddenly blinked, _Yes!_

It came to him in a flash; it was a movie seen a few times on night-time television, sometimes at old Miss' Figg's house but a few times at the Dursley's when they were away for the evening. Swindlers working to bring down a Gangster, that's where the piano tune was coming from.

"The American Movie!" Harry blurted out before realizing it.

This brought all discussions at the table to a halt, and Ginny blinking at him with a deep look of dismay on her face.

"Yes." Day gently explained. "_The Sting _is an American Movie, but please don't try what they did in it. It's a _created reality_, geared towards entertaining people. What they did wouldn't work in real life anyway.

And as Harry felt gradually embarrassed, Day continued with his explanation; "What I'm talking about is that she sets up these defensives with the shamanistic symbols arranged like musical notes to be played on a Piano, by how they are sounded out when spoken."

"A Piano?" Fredricks wondered.

Ginny didn't appear very amused by that. "Are we going to be carrying one around with us?"

As much as he liked Ginny, Harry was on the verge of telling her to stop it. Her rude attitude towards Day was going way too far.

But Day stepped in quickly, if not irritatedly…

"We're going to be using an Electric Piano. Because it's easier to—"

Then he stopped, looking as if he'd realized something utterly startling, "Maybe she's finally overcame her reluctance towards using the WizNet."

George went white.

"But we can work it to our advantage." Day quickly said to him. "Have either you or your brother revealed who you are and where you're at?"

George shook his head, "We've been careful, as you said to be"

Day nodded, relieved by what he herd.

"Then this is what you do." Day began telling George.

_I wanted him and his brother to fish around on the WizNet._

_Risky, well yes. But it took care of two things; it told us who was still out there, and most importantly who was most likely an agent of Hazel, if any existed. Determining that would involve guessing from what the poster wrote in their responses, or, specifically, how they wrote it. The psychology is very complex, but it involves searching out certain key words or phrases that are in their own way like unconscious physical actions and character identifiers._

_Hazel prefers her 'Boy-Toy Companions' to be darkly handsome in the romantic sort of way with a fair amount of intelligence and a goodly dose of arrogant ego with a penchant for viciousness. Probably to make them think she was in their control, because I can't see anyone smarter being one of her Gigolos and still be under her control. How she can control those boy-toys of hers' I'll never guess in millions of years. But if she's using the WizNet to keep tabs on the locals, it would be through them--because for some odd reason she doesn't like trolling on it. _

_Again, I'll never guess…_

_Maybe I'll just wait for the Memoir to come out._

9


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

The Very Long Night

_I'll admit Hollywood is very poor when in comes to any sort of accuracy with anything realistic. Case in point; Joplin's most recognized piece of work, The Entertainer, featured very prominently in the movie, The Sting, even though the story's setting occurs ten years after Joplin, and other Ragtime composures and performers, had fallen from popular favor._

_But just the same, Hazel just loves Joplin. So much so, she weaves in his piano arrangements into the physical aspect of her symbols by arranging them in harmonic order with spoken representation of the Shamanistic symbols—like, as I explained to them, musical notes on a sheet. It's how she activates, and deactivates, those Magical Constructs of hers. A fact that I only discovered by sheer accident during my fateful first encounter with her… _

_She doses it with an especially magiced Grand Piano that can be shrunk down to micro-toy size and carried in a special display case. I don't have anything like that on me. But then those Grand's are massive affairs, there's normally no room to set one up where I usually need to go. _

_But, I have my Electric Piano._

_It's a top-end Yamaha Synthesizer-Keyboard, with collapsible stand and carry strap. About four feet in length, and the speakers, like the keyboard cover, are built into the body. The magically powered battery-pack to run the thing needs to be carried around in a back-pack. Awkward? Well, yes. But otherwise, it's perfect for what currently needs to be done…_

"Must they come along?"

Day sighed, glancing at Harry, Ginny, and the Twins.

"I really don't want to, but I see no choice in the matter." Day answered a frowning Fredricks. "But, they're just as trapped here as every other Mage in Fresno. And I don't want them here if Hazel comes calling."

Ginny gazed unsurely at Day. Her Brothers were very much prepared.

Harry just frowned.

"It would be like waiting for Voldermort to come to your door." He darkly added.

As he started gathering the black rectangular Synthesizer and its backpack power supply, Day paused again…

And gazed sadly at Harry.

"I'm sorry about this happening." He gently told Harry. "I wish things had—"

"I'm going with you." Harry definitely, looking very determined, interrupted.

Ginny gazed worriedly at Harry, as her brothers faces broke into broad grins. Day was surprised, but Fredricks looked grim.

"That's the spirit, Harry" Fred boldly said.

"You're showing your stuff, Old Man." George chimed in.

Harry appeared uneasy at their attention. Then went on to say, "It's no different than dealing with Voldermort…Or Snape. Either I find them, or they'll find me. And I sure as hell don't want to be waiting around for either of them."

They made one last check with everyone they could, before leaving the house under the cover of the late evening.

And, word was getting around the WizNet—_Hazel maybe reading_. That shut the chatrooms down cold with regards to Fresno, except for those who had prearranged codes with others dared any sort of posting which came out posted as line after line of gibberish and symbols with no rhyme or reasoning behind them. Day pointed that out to the Brothers, and with a Laptop rigged with the proper reading programs and connectable to the WizNet what was unreadable became suddenly quite legible…

_Hazel's using a mix of rare Joplin…Be very, very sure of yours _

"She certainly not going to make it easy is she." George frowned.

"The Laptop has every known bit of Joplin in it." Day told him. "If you have troubles, use the Webcam like I showed you and press '_Analyze_' on the '_Examine_' Window."

George nodded.

"And remember to keep in contact with us over the Cellular Network." Day added as he went to Tamm.

"Of course." George replied.

"You just keep Harry and Ginny safe, got it." Fred called out from the rear of the large black sedan driven by Agent Barnabus.

Day waved back at him while climbing into Tamm.

Harry looked at Day. He was worried, his mind racing a mile a minute. Hazel's unknown location and Fredrick's revelation of her visiting his other homes undoubtedly had him very worried. Though there was still that smooth sense of control and confidence in him that made Harry believe he fully knew what he was doing.

But, Harry worried, how much more could he take before it became too much?

"Alright." Day quickly asked both him and Ginny, in the backseat with a copied map. "All ready to go?"

"Where to first?" Harry, in the front passenger seat, asked.

"Woodward Park." Day said starting Tamm up. "The northern most part of the Pentacle."

It wasn't much of a trip to the Park, being it was just up the street. But at that time, the Park was beginning to close and its Security was out in force.

"Going north of Friant will put us closer to the spot." Ginny suggested, while reading the map in the glow of her Wand. "Lindbrook Lane would be as far as we can go, but there's no turn off from Friant."

Day frowned, largely from being flustered at their predicament.

"We wont be able to make it to the North Emergency gate." He cursed.

"How about getting small and flying?" Harry suggested, remembering their earlier escape.

The effect on Day was tremendous; frustration was replaced by realization heightened by the grin that spread quickly across Day's face.

_"Somebody pimp-slap me for not thinking with a clearer head!"_ he announced. "Harry, I owe you for remembering London. _Now hang on!_"

They were upon a major avenue to their right, almost entering the intersection with it. Harry had only the barest moment to bask in the glory of saving the moment when Day had Tamm cut quickly through the right traffic lane onto a heavy shrubbery-lined avenue, under the hail of many breaking cars and blaring horns as the Grand-Am slid around the corner and roared away. Another right turn a short ways away put them into an expensive neighborhood of large multi-story homes and expensive cars.

From the backseat, Ginny, recovering from the sudden maneuvers, started exclaiming, "Just what is go—_Oh My!"_

Harry just grinned. It was mean to, since Ginny had no real ideal of what it was like to suddenly shrink in size as Tamm could while watching everything outside the car grow to incredibly large size at the same time. But instead of going down to the size of a Flea, as the last time, they stopped at the relative size of a Moth. And much to Ginny continued shock managed to slip easily under the hulking body of a Sport Utility Vehicle, before flying away into the night sky.

"Don't worry about the back seat, dear." Day smiled as he drove. "It can easily be shampooed."

Harry turned back in his seat.

Ginny was glaring murderously at Day.

As they soared over the avenue bound traffic, before them lay the darkened boundary of Woodward Park. Even with the small display lamps shining inward from the tree lined perimeter, the tall majestic trees carried a sinister airs being cloaked in the darkness of the night sky.

"Nightvision and Sense, Tamm." Day calmly instructed.

Without a response, the Car complied. Suddenly through the front windshield, it was once again daylight—and removing the sinister airs from the Park.

But, to the near right and before them, was something that gave even Harry pause.

It was a large gray wall of thick fog that cut its way through everything that crossed its path, from the ground reaching up to far above in the sky. It stayed uniformly firm, and not billowing as dense fog normally would. Harry quickly looked to his left, past Day. But all that was there was the brightness of North Fresno in the dark.

"Don't worry Harry, it's there too." Day quietly said while staring ahead.

"That's the Pentacle's Barrier?" Harry asked.

Day nodded, while trying to look over the front end of his car. "In full Technicolor representation. Impressed?"

Harry turned back and looked.

They appeared to be drifting towards it.

"Not even a peep, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny gave a startled sniffle from the backseat. Harry glanced back over his shoulder, and noticed her frightened face lit by the glow coming from the windshield.

They started flying lower, getting closer to where two of the fog walls touched the curving fog wall running west at sharp angles to each other. Where they met was defined by a brightly glowing yellow spot, that as they slowly approached began to form into a five-pointed star surrounded by two circled with a hexagon in it's center.

"The Anchor Point." Day announced, and continued with a warning tone to his voice. "Now, when we land, I want you both the stay in Tamm while I fetch the equipment from the Trunk. Do not get out until I tell you to—understand?"

They were getting close enough now that Harry could see the beginnings of the detail that lay between the circles of the Pentacle. Close enough now to see the winding Park Road; the Anchor Point lay only mere feet north from one of the Park's northern roofed group picnic sites just where the roar started curving back northward. The detail became obscured the closer to the ground they came, until it became just a single circle after they grazed the tops of the trimmed grass to finally come to a landing in the shadows of the picnic building. Where the concrete benches and tables towards over Tamm like huge shadowy mountains, and just a few feet to their left was an ominous Fog Wall.

"Harry." Day quietly asked. "Fish around in the glove-box between us for the Calico. Make sure it has the Green magazine and the Quick-Sight on it…Get the Silencer too."

_Green. _That meant Stun-rounds. And since he didn't have his wand to do any magical stunning, or had yet to perfect the ability to do it without, Harry quickly realized it was the next best thing he could manage. He found the gun and requested magazine soon enough, after Day had closed the door behind him. In the interior light, the Calico had a bright red cylindrical magazine in place which Harry quickly removed in practice countless times by pinching its release them pulling off the top of the gun and clearing the firing chamber of any remaining Explosive-rounds. The Quick-Sight was already in place, and as he dealt with the pistol Ginny found both the Green magazine and the Silencer. But Harry already knew this Calico was different from the regular pistol, with a handgrip at its front and a collapsible sliding stock in the rear. He didn't pause in surprise through, and had the weapon altogether by the time Day returned to them wearing the backpack and having the Electric Piano hanging from the strap around his neck.

"Ok." He told them in whisper, "Let's go."

Harry and Ginny kept to the right of Tamm, who was now no bigger than a toy car that some child had left behind after a day of play. Both noticed this, but neither asked about it. Being wary, they had their minds focused on more immediate matters, such as dealing with the Anchor Points.

"Alright." Day whispered to them. "I want you both to watch for any park security patrols coming up the road from either direction, and Stun them when they get close enough. Harry, use the picnic area building for cover. Because if they see you, they'll definitely call the Police out in force."

Harry wanted to ask a question, but Ginny beat him not only in timing but in subject manner as well.

"How long will it take?" he hurriedly asked.

"Ten minutes, maybe more—maybe less." Day answered while turning the organ on. "Depending on whatever interference we haft to deal with…And remember, _Stun_. Use nothing else."

It seemed Day couldn't say it enough, though Harry and Ginny weren't inclined like Death Eaters—who'd kill out of hand without a second thought—they didn't argue matters and set themselves to protect Day. Harry found his concealment in the shadows cast by the enclosed picnic building, if it could be called such being only eight concrete pillars supporting a broad roof over numerous concrete benches and tables evenly spaced apart form one another. From there, at the edge of one pillar, he was hidden from anyone coming up the road from the west though confounded by the rises bordering the road on the right which would hide anyone from view until they were nearly upon the picnic area's parking lot.

Ginny, unfortunately, was largely out in the open on the far side of the clearing squatting uncomfortably near a small planting of bushes near the road. Anyone coming up from the west could easily see her, as Harry could, though her position gave her an excellent view of anything approaching from the east. That made Harry's position all the more important; he was protecting both Ginny and Day from surprise as Ginny was certainly protecting him and Day from the same.

He also wished he had his Invisibility Cloak to give her. But that and many other things where taken by the Ministry.

_No wonder why Soldiers were always were nervous in enemy territory, _Harry realized when the same feeling came over him.

And he started wondering when Day would get done.

_Oh, she was going back in the past._

_Way back…_

_Just goes to show that being well prepared for anything is a significant blessing in its own right. But with Sky's Spell-Detection eye-glasses, it still took me six tense minutes to figure out it was an early Joplin Waltz, the 'Harmony Club Waltz', and not one of his more known Ragtime compositions._

_She's gotta know we're on to this trick; there's no other explanation I can think of for the choice..._

_I that put aside and start playing the Waltz in the slow tempo patterned out in the circle, being especially careful to hit the chords at the right moment before repeating the 1.2.3. Tonal count. This goes around and around several times, leaving me to wonder if I'm getting the notes right while worrying about the kids covering my back when the outer rings of the ward start glowing gold before dissipating away with the symbols between them. Then it's the points of the star with the indicators, and finally the hexagon in the center. Nothing flashy as one would expect, just a slow peeling away of the guard defenses until the Anchor itself is finally seen…_

_It's one of whose pretty plastic yellow flower lawn declarations, whose petals slowly turn in the night breeze. They're a dime a dozen in most Garden shops and Hardware stores._

_ I reach over a pull it from the ground. Nothing to it, since its sanctity was now violated that portion of the Dampener is now collapsing…_

_And just in time too, because I hear a car slowly approaching. _

_"Move!" I hoarsely cry out._

_The kids are frozen, but Tamm launches herself out from the picnic tables and is already full sized by the time she slides to a halt near where Ginny is crouching. _

_She's quick. Without any instruction, she's dives right into the rear seat as Harry comes roaring out of the shadows and I'm dumping my stuff into the trunk…_

_But not quickly enough. The Security car snakes around the curve, and its spot light is on Tamm instantly. I hop in just as its starts racing towards us as, 'STAY WHERE YOU ARE. YOU ARE UNDER ARREST FOR TRESSPASSING ON CITY PROPERTY." blares at us from its mounted bullhorn._

_Yea, like we're going to. Tamm fires up, spinning slightly on the grass before racing towards the Security car. And just were the ground starts dipping down to the area's parking lot, she takes off into the sky right over the heads of some really startled people._

_Ginny watches them through the rear window. Harry just grins like he's won millions, and I'm no better—but betting heavily that all of us are relieved that we got out of there._

_"So, where to now?" Harry asks, still grinning._

_As Ginny tries gathering the Map, I have Tamm turn the Sense and Nightvision back on…_

_And see our luck go sour._

_Billowing and weaving, the Fog Wall is reforming across another made line, off in the distance. More anchors? Spare ones set to activate when the main ones are found and pulled?_

_This is a new one from Hazel. Boy, she really must have it out for me._

_"Of all the Dirty…" Ginny trails off before landing in the backseat with a huff._

_Harry is just righteously pissed._

_I don't blame him. This is going to be a very long night._

They met in the parking lot of a fast food restaurant just north of Herndon and Blackstone Avenues. A simple place that was more for drive-in's than sit-down's but with room for both, which was ready to close down for the night. Except that the business that suddenly came there, by way of numerous business suited people in large black cars, a few more dressed more casually in older cars, and finally a small white custom coupe with three tired people, was simply too good to pass by. This resulted in a significant amount of profit gained for the eatery that night.

Of course, there was the matter of all those people staying in the parking lot having some sort of gathering. Not particularly illegal, but the Police have been especially vigilant against congregating street racers and gang members and had been known to approach such crowds wondering what was going on…

In fact, that group out there tended to actually look like Police Officers—so the restaurant workers believed.

"_Root Beer!_" George exclaimed to Harry. "You should have went with a Mountain Dew. Twice the caffeine you know."

Harry was alternating between chewing and choking on the overly large bite he took of his Extreme-Deluxe Hamburger in his mouth, while leaning against Tamm's driver's side door. Ginny was inside, curled up on the backseat sleeping near the Calico after her small meal as Fred, Day, several Bureau Agents, and several local Mages, were discussing current matters while crowded around the map laid out across the hood of an Agent's car.

Finally managing to force the thing down his throat with out strangling, he gasped back, "I'm fine…How's it been with you?"

"Simply gobsmacked." George frowned. "Hazel's barriers have been driving us absolutely batty by always reforming to new points after we've dealt with the old points. Fred and I are really close to guessing where the Walls will form up to, but now he's right close to tearing his hair out over it and being quite frank so am I."

And with a nod towards the larger group, added, "Right now, they're beating their heads together trying to figure where _all_ of those anchors are located…If it were me, I'd have it arranged so when one part of my barrier goes down I'd have my Hench's out planting more of those Anchor's about. Have you seen what Hazel's using for them?"

Harry, this time, took a more manageable bite of his burger. Not being in a position to speak at that moment, so he nodded instead.

"Stupid looking things, if you ask me." George frowned. "Been seeing gardens and lawns just full of em' already."

"But they're cheap, easy to plant, and unsuspecting." Harry said after swallowing. "I doubt people really notice what they have in their gardens, until they actually go look."

"That," George sighed, "is what that lot over there is worried about. You can just imagine what the Muggles around here would do if they see us all tramping through their lawns and gardens."

Harry easily could; either they'd call the Police, or shoot at them and then call the Police. Either way, Hazel was clearly in command of the situation with her reforming barriers. Adding George's suggestion of her having agents out replacing the taken Anchors only made the future bleaker as far as Harry could see.

George, during this, settled next to Harry against Tamm's side while sucking more out of his giant drink through the straw as Harry finished off his Burger. He was slowly washing it down with his Root Beer, when George surprised him by asking; "So, you have any plans for Ginny?"

There was a convulsion, then suddenly a lot of the Root Beer Harry had been drinking came spurting through his nostrils. All Harry was glad for was that the Burger had gone down, otherwise he would have been strangling on it. George quickly thumped Harry on the back as he leaned over coughing and sputtering up more of the drink, until he began straightening up to breathe more easily.

Nobody in the other group even noticed. They were still arguing over what to do next.

"Caught you by surprise with that, didn't I?" George grinned, though not in a mischievous was expected from him. "Sorry about that, Mate."

Harry got his breath back, but his nose and sinuses tingled from the carbonation left behind. It felt funny to breathe for a minute or two, but when he was able to breathe without the feeling, he gasped, "Thanks a lot George."

"Don't mention it." The brother replied. "Just looking out for Family, you know."

There were other things Harry wanted to say, things not very nice because he didn't apprecieate the near drowning.

Yes, he had plans for Ginny. But like everything else, Voldermort had to be dealt with first. And that weighted him down, keeping him form enjoying what was around him to the fullest.

"You're a damn sight better to be around than Ron, not all icky and whiny…Or officious and rude, like Percy."

Harry turned, intending to stick up for Ron whom he knew struggled with a lot of things--especially with Hermione's present condition. But when he finally faced George, the brother's face wasn't so jovial as he though…

It was quite dark, and tinted with simmering rage.

"Sorry." George quietly said. "I really shouldn't have mentioned him."

As Harry watched, George struggled with that rage boiling with in for several seconds before sighing to Harry, "Some you know by now, the rest you've probably seen on your last visit to the Burrow…"

Harry silently nodded.

"That's only recent." George stated, keeping his voice low. "The real problems go back much further, when we _all_ lived there. You know, it was never a splendid castle or a fancy mansion, like those owned by the high-and-mighty. But it was 'Home', a place we could always come to and feel welcome at anytime in our lives. Mum and Dad did their best with what they had from the Ministry. And with all of us kids helping out, I say we did a damn good job of keeping everything together…

"Except Percy…When Fred and I were too young to really help around the Burrow, some of out most vivid memories were of Bill and Charlie having to deal with Percy's slacking off on the chores he was given…"

With the fingers of his right hand, George began counting off; "He hated dealing with the weeds, cleaning out the chicken coop, dealing with the Gnomes, tending the Garden, cleaning in the Broom Shead, cleaning the Chamber-Pots…"

He paused, explaining before continuing; "That was before Dad could afford to have plumbing installed…We quickly got rid of the outside privy soon afterwards."

With a brief repose, George continued naming other things the now unforgivable brother would either refuse or due in part before 'training' himself for the Ministry.

"It was an obsession with him. Carrying on all morning, noon, and night with how he would become '_The best Minister in History_', by telling how he'll institute sweeping reforms that would make everything better for Witches and Wizards all over…"

"That doesn't sound too bad." Harry stated, after considering it.

But he also remembered how Percy was like; officious, unyielding, self-important, and distant from people…

Even his own family. Eventually turning against them by choosing the Ministry over them, when Voldermort returned.

"He just wouldn't shut up about it, Harry. _Not for one blessed moment would he stop!_" George lowly growled back while controlling his rage. "On and on and on, it eventually impressed everyone so much that they exempted him from the household chores when Fred and I were old enough so he could start studying for the position.

"And every day, we could hear him carrying on and on like some Ministry Official in his 'Personal Office'…"

Then George fell silent, with eyes closed and distress across his face as he slowly lowered his head.

"He just used us, Harry. We were nothing more than a step on the way up." George quietly added. "And when the opportunity was right, he dumped the whole lot of us so not to hinder his progress…

"I've never herd Mum cry so much and for so long afterward. And now he's really showing his stuff. Bet Scrimgeour and the whole scummy lot are really pleased with the work he's been doin'."

All Harry could do was look at George with sadness. Percy's 'defection' did more to his Family than Ron ever eluded to when the break occurred, and in ways that he never imagined possible. They were Harry's idealized family, more than just people he could look forward to meeting at the beginning of Term. Their presence helped him get through the rough times at the Dursley's. And would, without hesitation, come to rescue him from their abusive clutches…

He owed them.

He owed them a lot…

And after all this time, he hadn't returned the favor.

It made him feel even less worthy of their friendship, and more like a leech…

A bug living off the substance willing given, and giving nothing in return.

There had to be something he could do…

Anything. It screamed hideously within his very being to set aside his problems and go help them at once…

And what to do became obvious enough.

"You're going after Percy." Harry asked.

For moments, George said nothing. He raised his head and blinked in the direction of the hood-top meeting, though not really staring at it before him but frowning as if what was going on displeased him.

"Damn right we're going after Percy." George quietly said. "Ron's a comer', especially after what was done to Hermione. Well see about Bill, if we can find him…Charlie too."

"You want help?"

George glanced sideways at Harry.

"_Hey George! Git over here for a moment!_" Fred called out from hood-meeting.

The brother sighed, straightening up from Tamm.

"Hold the thought, Harry, I'll be back." He said, and sauntered off to his brother.

That made Harry smile, and a little warmer on the inside as the Beast within, now content, subsided back to the darkness that was its home.

He took a lengthy pull of Root Beer, and swallowed greatly…

"He's not worth going after." Ginny said from within Tamm. "Not at all..."

Harry spun in surprise. Ginny was sitting up in the rear seat, and levering the front seat forward to see Harry better.

"And I'm surprised you think it's worth it." Ginny admonished him.

"But, Ginny." Harry stammered, "What he did—"

"He did. We've gotten over it." Ginny bored right into, and through, him. "Percy will be sorry for the hurt he's brought us, but someday, not now, it'll happen. Going after him is not the way to make him pay for that grief…It'll only just make Mum and Dad hurt worse."

Harry just stood, not knowing weither to argue out the reasons with her or just simply back down from the desire. Once more the Beast within roared, but Harry was too transfixed by Ginny to heed its cries.

"_Anger never gives what one want's._" She told him. "_It only gives one more misery instead._ It's what my Grandma once said…"

And her face softened, slowly forming into a loving expression as she gazed out at Harry.

"You're too good a person to let anger dominate you." Ginny gently told him, as her words made Harry reflect on his recent choice. "You want to help, that's good. But you can do much better as an _example_ than as a ruffian."

That Harry knew he never was, and it greatly embarrassed him that he went as far as copying Dudley's behavior to that extent.

"S-sorry."

Ginny smiled at him, even as she climbed out of Tamm's back seat to stand before him after closing the driver's door.

"I'll have a talk to them about it. And if need be, tell Mum and Dad."

Ginny didn't relish doing that. It was clear enough to Harry that she wanted to be elsewhere as she stood there before him.

But she would, she'd do it. Because knowing she was right would give her the fortitude to stand up to any angry retaliation from her brothers.

"You're a lot braver than I am." Harry quietly smiled to her.

There was a momentary flash of surprise crossing Ginny's face at that remark, she recovered and leaned towards Harry with a wide mischievous smile crossing her face…

"I know my brothers." She winked back with a smile.

It was natural, Harry started to draw Ginny close to him with his free hand because he wanted to—forgetting all that there was going on around them in the world beyond. She did nothing to dissuade the act, either verbally or physically. In fact, she was quite eager for what it would lead to.

But again, Fred stepped in, calling out to them from the crowd, "_Hey! You two! Get over here!_"

So with reluctance they went over, with an arm across the other's back…

And halfway, things became suddenly dark.

18


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-eight.

The Evil Good People Must Do at Times...

In the beyond, on the other side of the darkness that surrounded him, Harry could hear voices and feel people jostling his unresponsive body. The voices were deep, manly. His hands, his whole body refused to move. Nor could his eyes open.

"Be careful with _him_." A harsh feminine voice sharply commanded out of the dusk, "_He's special_."

_Hazel_, Harry knew.

But where was Ginny?

He wanted to open his eyes, but the lids refused to budge. The only amount of movement he could perform was calm breathing. He was confounded by his body refusing to budge against the restraint of those holding him. But he could feel himself being carried, first down stairs then down a short corridor to a sharp left and then a little ways more to a sharp right. Each step taken caused him to sway and bounce in his handlers hands, but only for a short time. Keys were jangled, a door opened, and once more they moved into a room…

And Harry was dropped on something that bounced and squeaked metallically, and quickly settled.

"Not much, was he?" Someone with a deep voice beyond remarked.

"You could' a carried him across your shoulder." Replied another, lighter voice.

"She ordered us both to bring him down here." The first voice returned. "Do you want to whine about it to _Her_?"

The second voice was reluctant to respond quickly, but Harry herd enough to figure out what did happen…

Hazel had captured him and Ginny. How, Harry was at a lost to know. But knew one very clear fact, he was in deep trouble.

Very deep trouble…

"So, we leave?" The Second voice spoke up.

"Not after we strip him to his undies'" the First answered. And after minutes of feeling his shirt, pants, shoes, and socks removed from his body, the two left locking the door behind them.

Harry just laid there for the longest time trying to will his body to move, or at the least open his eyes. Neither was responsive for what seems hours, then slowly they began to move at his command. It was like bending a caramel candy stick, slowly they would move at first. Then after long minutes of struggling, his arms and legs began moving more and more freely…

Finally, he could open his eyes.

It was a small room, a little larger than the cupboard where he spent most of his life when living with the Dursley's, and largely bare except for the old metal bed and thin mattress he lay upon. Above, hanging down from the ceiling, was a single glowing light that reflected off of the dark walls and floor of the room. In fact, the only bright thing in the room was the doorknob handle who's tarnished and dull brass reflected some on the ceiling light at him.

Harry swung his legs out over the edge of the bed, and started pushing himself into a seated position. His legs were held close together by shackles, and it felt like he had them on his wrists as well. They were heavy bindings, like giant dull-gray steel handcuffs, that allowed his legs to move only three inches apart. He could hop, or shuffle--but little else.

_Where was Ginny?_ He let his mind wander back to the parking lot, just before everything went dark. He and Ginny were approaching the group…

Then suddenly they were not.

He remembered being picked up, the woman's commands, and being carried to where he was now. And try as he may, he couldn't bring up a memory or recollection of any reference to Ginny before he was carried down here…

That made it worse.

He was responsible, Ginny was here because of the connection to him. And if anything did happen to her, anything too horrible to imagine, Harry knew he couldn't bare look her family in the eye afterward.

He couldn't bare the pain of remembering.

He had to escape…

But how? He was shackled, in his undershorts, in a small closed room with only a bed to sit on. There had to be a way out, there had to be something to give hope—opportunity.

Harry's mind raced. Solutions came quickly enough, but all involved wands and incantations. He didn't have either at the moment…Nor was his self-summoning ability efficient enough to get him out of this spot

_Creativity, _the phrase exploded in his mind,_ is the hallmark of escape…_

Harry blinked. _Day! Of course! _

The Thief had explained a good many things to them, much more than Cars, Firearms, and how to not draw attention to your self…

Escaping from traps, was very interesting.

_"Handcuffs are just a smaller and lighter version of the old iron wrist shackles." _He explained to them, _"They require a key, usually simple in design, because the locking mechanism is nothing more than a Cam that swivels into one of several recesses of a ratchet, which locks the swing arm into place._

_"It's also quite possible to wear down the chain, or hinge, on handcuffs by rubbing against a hard surface. But that'll only work if you have a lot of time by yourself, and it's much easier if you are able to get your hands in front of you."_

There was a trick to doing that, a rather demanding physical one consisting of slipping one's cuffed hands around their bottom then lying back while trying to force their bent legs, one at a time, through the opening between their cuffed hands and chest.

He really wasn't that fortunate with how his legs were bound, but he went ahead with trying to slip them both through at the same time because there was no better way of doing it—and he had to try. The Woman knew him, and quite possibly as he was trapped in that room was trying to contact Voldermort. That's if she knew how, it was just admittedly a wild assumption on his part that she could.

Harry made up his mind not to just lie around and find out.

He was going to fight.

But struggled for the most part, as he tried forcing his shackled lanky legs to bend and twist just so they could slip through the space he made. It seems so much easier when Day explained it, hoping he had no visitors suddenly come into the room discovering what he was doing, not only for the obvious but also he looked utterly foolish stretched out on the bed like he was but he kept at it. His legs though appeared to have minds of their own and be uncooperative with all the straining, twisting, and forcing he did with it until they finally did move right leaving Harry with his cuffed hands now in front of him.

Ignoring the pain in his legs, because he didn't give himself time to rest, Harry started remembering what Day had told them all about Handcuffs…

_'They come in a variety of designs, sizes, materials…"_ Harry pushed himself trying to remember anything he could. _"If you could dislocate the bones in your hand, you can slip right out of them…Otherwise, you'll tear your hand apart in the process."_

_Come on, come on…He said it somewhere._ Harry urged himself along

_"Almost all Handcuffs made in both America and Canada are made to be used with a Universal Key…"_

_That was it_, Harry smiled…

_"This Universal Key is really nothing much; it's a two inch long rod of metal with a small bump extending down from the shaft a few millimeters. What you need to do is find a good solid wire, or something made from wire—like Paperclips, Hairpins, heavy Electrical wire, or a small radio antenna—bend the end down just those scant millimeters, usually three or five millimeters, at the end._

_Then stick it into the keyhole, and carefully turn. If it's too big, wear it down a little by rubbing against something hard. If too small, try rebending the end just a little bit more or bend the other end of the wire a little bit more."_

Unsure of how much time he had, Harry started looking around for anything he could use as a key.

The floor itself was filthy, and in need of a good sweeping. Harry carefully got down on his knees in the dust, looking into every corner he could for anything he could use. He even tried moving the bed around so to look under it, but the bed frame was metal and difficult to move as shackled as he was…

But lifting the mattress off the frame was easier. Its underside was just as filthy as the side Harry was laying on, but in three places there were the sharp ends of springs poking through. The one at the corner Harry knew would work.

_But what to bend the end with? _He wondered.

Harry began coming up with multitudes of ideals of what to use, only to write them off because he didn't have the materials to make the improvised bending tool…

His teeth, maybe. Harry, in spite the repugnance of it reserved that action for last if nothing else could be found.

_Come on, Harry…Think! _He urged himself, _There has to be something you can use to bend that wire!_

But only ideals that needed materials that were around him at the time were the only things that kept popping into his head, which irritated him to no end. Finally he just decided to try rubbing the weakest part of the Handcuff chain against the bed-frame leg, if he could get it right where the steel link was forged he could weaken the whole chain enough to free his hands then his feet.

That's when he noticed the Handcuffs.

The locking portion was set on a simple post attached to the general frame, which was in two sections with a space for the moveable section to swing through so to accommodate those with smaller wrists. What caught his attention was the section where the locking part pivoted, there wasn't a whole lot of space around that post the locking portion swung on…

He figured he could jam the spring's exposed end into that space just enough to bend it in the way he wanted.

And did. Though he nearly speared himself in the wrist several times with the wire while trying to fit it into the space so it could be bent, and then in also trying to keep it in place so it could be bent. The length of the Cuff's chain was just short enough to cause him troubles, hampering the proper positioning of his hands. By twisting his hands around till they were finger-to-finger eventually helped.

Harry just hoped he had the right amount bent, for he finally managed to get the wire bent. And shook has he threaded the end into the keyhole on his right hand, then worked his hand around the wire…

_Snik! _

The Handcuffs came free of his right hand.

Elation rose up with in him, but he forced it back to truly free his other hand—which, like his legs, took a while to get free.

Now he just hoped that it would work with his legs shackles. He could bend the wire by using the Handcuffs as leverage, breaking off enough of the wire to work it with his free hands…

The sound of someone unlocking the room's door changed those plans quite quickly.

Harry shifted himself around so he would be sitting upright with his hands behind his back. His mind raced even more, coming up with quick plans to attack whoever came in. Such things would work, Day had assured them. What they needed were three things to make it work in their favor; _Time, Opportunity, and Surprise._ He even showed them quick ways of subduing people, pointing out the more sensitive areas of the body that if hit quickly enough could render anyone helpless for minutes.

But first, he had to calm himself down. A little nervousness was fine, too much would be telling.

And keep his eyes on the door.

It opened inwardly. That was bad because as Day said it, "_Such usually hampers the opportunity of Surprise, because instead of using the door to your benefit it can easily be used against you with a good solid kick—besides hampering your initial outward movement."_

A single man, quite husky in overall appearance with dark brown curly hair, wide face and jaw, wearing a sport-coat, plain blue pull-over shirt with no tie, dark brown slacks and black shoes—carrying in what appeared to be a small portable table and covered dinner tray.

"Nothing nasty, Oscar. Alright?" Said someone warned from behind the door.

The man, Oscar, didn't say anything beyond a rude grunt. He kicked the door closed while carefully balancing the dinner tray, and approached Harry. Oscar quietly folded out the table, setting the tray down on it. And so absorbed in his task, that he didn't notice Harry tensing up…

For when Oscar turned and started towards him, Harry lashed out driving both his feet deeply into Oscar's crotch. Having just freed himself, Harry was in no mood to be reshackled again—possibly in such a way that would be impossible to free himself from.

Oscar gasped, with eyes bulging and face reddening as he tried grabbing Harry's legs. Harry now was truly running on impulse, with neither a plan beyond getting free at the immediate moment. He retracted his legs, and lashed out again at the man's left knee, making it fold unnaturally, along with using the handcuffs like brass knuckles hitting him as hard as he could against the man's jaw.

Oscar quickly tipped over to his left,hitting his head solidly against the bed frame before slumping to the floor.

_"Oscar! What did I tell you?"_ called the guard from the other side of the door.

To Harry, gazing down at the Man, it didn't appear that he'd made all that much noise when striking his head against the metal bed frame. The Man was still, very still on the floor. Harry quietly congratulated himself on effectively knocking him out so effectively, that he didn't notice something else until searching him for a key to his leg shackles.

Besides the blood pooling quickly on the floor from the head wound, the Man's neck was bent at a very sharp angle in relation to the rest of his body—too sharp to be entirely natural. By the time Harry noticed this, he had managed to find a set of keys that could unlock his leg restraints, a wallet with cash and coins, a knife with a folding blade, a white handkerchief, and a Colt .45 Automatic in a shoulder holster with several spare magazines. He was pulling the latter off what he assumed to be an unconscious man, when the fact hit him; _He's not breathing…_

Harry just froze.

When the nerve came back, he slowly felt the Man's wrist for a pulse…

There was none. The flesh was warm, but there was no indicator of life.

The Man was dead.

_I killed him! _Harry realized, as the wild fear gripped him making him tremble with fear. He had no intention of such an act. All he wanted to do was to knock the man unconscious, bind him up, and effect escape…

_Oh man, _He worried, _What now…What now?_

It was purely an accident, he was able to reason out, a stupid accident. Surely, it wouldn't be held against him. He was part of those who've kidnapped him and Ginny…Hazel, Day's enemy as surely as Voldermort was his. She'd killed several of his friends in the past, he'd explained, and had tried killing him several times since—or performing something more worse than a quick death…

Yet Day never appeared to readily go for his gun when things were going badly, at least not a first. He'd always try avoiding any serious confrontation…

Unless there was no choice…

He was ready, if Fred and George's special spell used on the Gangers didn't work…And how relieved his laugh was when it did work.

And how tense he was when starting out on this very night…

But he went out, just the same.

_Because there was no choice. _

Just as there was no choice with what happened, Harry realized. If the Man realized he wasn't Handcuffed anymore, he certainly would have been--or worse.

_SO STOP FEELING GUILTY OVER IT!! _He inwardly yelled at himself, making things a whole lot clearer and a whole lot calmer for himself.

But there was still the Guard outside the door.

Judging from where his voice came from, Harry figured he was standing on the right side of the door—where it was hinged at. And only one known.

And no doubt, he was expecting the now dead man to conclude his business soon. Harry had to think and move quickly.

His pants were large, but with the belt pulled tight Harry could wear them and the shoes with the socks as well. The shoulder holster was left behind, Harry couldn't figure out how to wear it since he never had experience with one. Day never seemed to use or need one, in spite having several available to him. He avoided taking the pullover shirt, it was too messy with blood to even wear. But the jacket did well enough. And Harry loaded its pockets with the things taken from the now dead man.

Now for the Guard…

There was the folding-lock knife, and a dinner knife and fork on the covered food tray sitting on the collapsible table. They would be perfectly silent, but Harry would rather avoid any close confrontations that could get him captured quickly.

The handgun was good, but very loud—very, very loud. He wanted silence instead. However, there was no muffler, or silencer, as Day called them, for it on the dead man.

_"It's essentially a 'Muffler' that can be screwed on the front of any gun barrel, made to accept such an attachment." _Day had explained. "_A cheap, quick, workable version could range from a car's oil filter, to an empty plastic bottle, to a simple pillow. Because all you would be doing is trying to muffle the muzzle blast when the gun discharges…"_

Harry began quickly looking around for something that could be made into a muffler. There was a small plastic glass on the serving tray, a napkin too. They could work, Harry realized, he could fit the cup over the front of the pistol and stuff the napkin around it.

_But would it be enough? _He wondered.

Then, out of curiosity, he lifted the tray's cover.

Two tacos, one large burrito, with a large side order of rice sat steaming on the plate that had been covered. Nice, but Harry didn't feel particularly hungry at the moment…

But the rice might be useful…

He scooped up a decent amount of it with the cup, pushed the pistol's muzzle in and stuffed the napkin around both sides…

And started feeling hollow inside.

He was going to kill again, this time deliberately…

_This is what it must feel like to not be in control_, he quickly realized.

But what else could he do?

Harry dropped the tray cover on the floor, hoping the noise would attract the Guard. He even let out a loud moan in addition, hoping that too would work while rushing to the right side of the door as it flew open…

The Guard stepped in.

Harry, hiding behind the door, tensed.

"Oscar, what the—_oh hell!_"

Harry stepped out of his hiding place, raising the weapon

The Guard started turning around, towards Harry

_Thwap!!_

It was a dull sort of sound, not quite a loud as slapping a wall with a wet rag. The Guard collapsed like a rag doll to the floor in a shower of burn rice and melted plastic. Harry quickly wheeled around, aiming his weapon towards anyone else coming in as he ignored the throbbing pain in his left hand from hold the make-shift Silencer…

No one. Just empty corridor.

Harry stepped out. The corridor was bare, unoccupied with several doors set into its walls.

But no sounds of anyone coming.

He ducked back into the room, closing the door quickly but quietly.

The cup's bottom was completely blown out. He'd need to find another one to use as a Silencer, but now he felt very weak and damp as he leaned against the door.

His stomach was leaping. His body shaking. As he tried to pull himself together, Harry envisioned Voldermort himself laughing viciously if he ever happen upon him at that moment…

_Well done, Potter! Two Muggles in a matter of minutes! I'm certainly surprised, because I never knew you had it in you to be so murderous…_

_Shut up! _ He wanted to shout back. _Shut up, or I'll kill you now just to be rid of your existence!…_

_So I can live…_

Harry snapped his eyes open, feeling strangely calm.

Perfectly fine…Without a worry at all over what he'd done.

He looked down at the Guard, sprawled out on the floor with his face turned away as if asleep. Harry would have considered him asleep, if not for the rapidly forming pool of blood forming around the man's head from a wound he couldn't see.

A quick search yielded another set of keys, much more important looking than the first set he had already. And two more pistols; a short-barreled Magnum revolver tucked in a belt holster at the back of the Guard's waist and a small automatic in an ankle holster—both with several rounds of ammunition. More money, coin, another knife…

And a Cellphone.

This, of all things, Harry was especially happy to find.

Soon after arriving in Fresno, one of the first things Day did was make them memorize the phone numbers they could reach him by. He still had those numbers in his head, remembered as musical tunes for quicker recall…

But no clear signal to send for help. Being underground, the transmission signal was blocked as according to the lack of power bars next to the telephone pole symbol on the screen when he tried to call. He had to get out of where he was, possibly the whole building, to make the call.

Resigned, Harry stepped out of the room remembering who he was carried down here in the first place. Starting out right, he quietly sneaked his way down to the first corner. After carefully gazing around it, he stepped into another shorter corridor with the Colt in hand and very ready for anything—repeating his actions at each corner, until reaching a staircase leading upward. Harry travels slowly up, keeping to one side while watching the door at the very top. If it opened, if someone appeared, Harry had no doubt he'd shoot the person…

And then they'd know he'd escaped.

_Well, _he figured, _if that's how it is—that's how it is. _It helped fight off the fright that kept trying to overwhelm him.

He reached the top with no trouble. No one decided to enter the stairwell from above, and Harry pressed an ear against the door to listen for any sounds…

Except for the blood pumping through his ear, there was nothing on the other side.

He gripped the doorknob, turning it slowly…

This door opened inwardly to a large, vintage kitchen furnished with exquisitely maintained antiquated appliances and furniture. A very large table dominated the center of the room, surrounded by twelve chairs, with several dark wood cabinets set against whitewashed walls lit brightly by a spider-like chandelier with many light bulbs. Harry slipped in, closing the stairwell door behind him. Crouched low against the ground, he herd nothing in the immediate area.

There were three entrances; the first was to the stairwell, the second one was diagonally across the room from him on the other side of the table. It appeared to enter a living room, furnished with antique furniture from what could be seen from the lamplight coming from with in. The third was closed by a door that had a large glass panel set in its upper half. Harry couldn't see what was beyond it, due to being so low to the ground, but he figured it led out to the back porch—just like back at the Dursley's.

He could go outside, and make the call…

But if Ginny were anywhere, she would be in the House…

_Alright, Harry, what are you going to do? Make a call—or save the Girl?_

Common sense demanded he go outside. Especially if someone went downstairs, and found the dead men instead of him, he could be far away and hiding...and making the call.

Or, he could be the '_Hero_' everyone called him, and try finding Ginny by himself.

He was armed and becoming used to use his weapons.

But, how many Guards were there to deal with? That made Harry pause. And the noise, it would certainly give him away. Without another Silencer, any fighting would be over very quickly. And without knowing exactly where Ginny was, the risks of being discovered while searching piled onto the fact that any fighting at all would quickly deplete any odds in his favor.

These factors made it easy for Common Sense to win out over Impulse. Finding out where he was, and calling for help was far better than blindly charging in.

And on that, he began to creep towards the back door with a wary eye aimed towards the second doorway…

A paper rustled in the room beyond.

Harry stopped. No, he didn't see anyone in there, at least from where he was in the Kitchen…

Now a slight cough. A low, throat clearing one.

There was a person in there. Where, Harry couldn't tell.

More than half way to the back door, he was right out in the open. Through the second doorway, all he could see was a brown wall lit in the glow of a light just beyond the door frame. It was stronger moving towards the right side, leaving Harry to figure maybe its source was five feet or more away.

Which was how far away he was from the back door…

If there was someone there, they could notice him trying to escape.

He could shoot the person, just like he did the Guard.

But what if there were two people in the room?

_Oh, curse my luck! _Harry inwardly swore…

Just as a knock was herd coming from the other room.

"Geeze, what is it now?" The man in the other room irritatedly moaned. A paper rustled, then a chair groaned, followed by the sound of someone walking away…

It was the sweetest sound Harry had ever herd in his life. With that Guard gone, he quietly and quickly reached the back door, opened it, slipped through and closed it quickly without making a sound. There, on the other side, he allowed himself the chance to get both his breath and wits by crouching down against that very door he rushed through.

It was a dark, narrow room. To his left, beneath several large pane windows, were numerous concrete sinks standing on metal legs. While on the right appeared to be a washing machine, with a dryer on the far side. Shelving was all around, with boxes, bottles and assorted items Harry could see from his low vantage point. But what they were didn't concern him as much as the door at the other end of this narrow room.

That door was the outside door, leading into the night and hopefully far enough away so he could use the cell phone. It was like the one he was couched against; a large window dominated the upper half with a big brass knob that beckoned him to turn…

Half crouching, half crawling, Harry approached that door…

Turned the knob…

Nothing happened. The door wouldn't budge.

Harry felt like screaming.

_So close...Just so close…_

_Shut up! Concentrate! _Harry forcibly willed himself to be calm.

There was something about the door that he'd missed. It was dark, so something in the shadows. Possibly a bolt, a latch? Harry looked closely where such would be, literally pressing his face closely along the run of the door's frame to possibly see whatever it was in the shadows…

Or was it?

This was Hazel's Home, he figured. She would have safeguarded it in some sort of magical manner, preventing intrusion or escape.

_But yet grant her 'assistant's the means of coming and going freely! Of course!! _

_The Keys!_

He had two sets of keys in the jacket pockets. Which of them would work? Feeling out where the door's lock was, Harry inserted one key at a time into it. Some wouldn't even go in. Other's slipped in, but wouldn't turn. Some did turn, but did nothing.

Until the twelfth key, when he herd a click come from the lock and the knob turned.

And the Door opened into a warm night…

"_Lumious!"_

Had Harry not recognized Fred's voice, the heart attack he would have had right there would have killed him on the spot—or he would have started shooting. But Fred was there, standing before him grinning like an idiot in the light of his wand surrounded by rows of corn stalks. Behind him was Fredricks' looking very exasperated.

"_Put that out, Fool!!" _he hoarsely admonished Fred. _"We'll be spotted!!"_

Coming up from behind them was George and Barnabus, loping along in a low crouch.

Fred doused his wandlight.

Naturally, Fred and George wanted to ask about Ginny while Fredricks was trying to ask Harry about the House--tearing Harry between the two groups and frustrating him to no end by not letting him ask a question of his own…

"No, I haven't seen Ginny…I don't know where she is. They had me in the Basement."

"She might be there." George put in.

"Can you lead us back there?" Fredricks asked.

It was about then he noticed the pistol in Harry's hand, but said nothing about it.

"Yes, "Harry quickly said:"But they had a Guard at my door, I didn't see any other, anywhere else down there."

Then Fred began, "Hey, Harry, where did you get the clothes—

"_Shut up!" _Fredricks hissed back at him, which prompted Fred to turn on the Agent looking like he'd quite like to hit the man. Harry stopped him before things went that far. And in the process, revealed the pistol in his hand to everyone.

It also gave him the opportunity to ask; "How did you find me?

It turned out to be a lot of things, ranging from the Laptop Day left with the Brothers to the Root Beer Harry passed through his sinuses accidentally. George quickly filled him in as they all entered the House.

But the one fact that shocked Harry most of all, was that Day was here, in the House, meeting with Hazel…

18


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-nine.

And what of Ginny?

_Just like what would happen to Christians when the Rapture occurs, Harry and Ginny vanished like 'that' right before us. And we were all damned to know how it happened for the following ten minutes, until Fred and George hurriedly worked out their a theory of the Dampener on the Laptop--as the rest of us ripped our hair (metaphorically) out of our heads._

_And what they came up with as a result, was a stunner. _

_Hazel had thrown in a very devious twist to her Dampening Field. Whenever we found an Anchor, and dealt with it, the whole Field would simply reset itself to another Anchor. What made it more fun, as Fred laid it all out for us, was that the Dampener's parameters would rotate clockwise to a new point every half kilometer when an Anchor was pulled. So, as we were merrily trying to defeat her, we were also inadvertently helping her by sweeping up all those good souls helping us break the Dampener down—and vice-versa._

_This latest twist occurred because someone dealt with an Anchor way out by Highway 99 and some Water Park, the name of which slips my mind at the moment, making the Dampener's parameters reset themselves dutifully, cutting right through the parking lot where we were, not twelve feet in front of us._

_Twelve feet…A little more south, Hazel would have had all of us for a party—with me as the 'Guest of Honor…_

_Not an honor I'd consider, really._

_But, with the news, we made damn sure to contact everyone else out there to be very careful from now on. Hazel was playing for keeps in the dirtiest way imaginable. Then again, considering, I really shouldn't be awfully surprised._

_Meanwhile, Fredricks was leaning on the Twins, wanting to know where that Line came from—and if they dealt with it, where would it reform. He went at it little too harshly, from my point of view, but they like the rest of us wanted to know where Harry and Ginny were._

"_It's down the street, in this large area." George pointed first at the screen then looked to the west._

_He then pointed at a light, slowly blinking in the distance. "Right about there!"_

_Vendo. Former vending machine manufacturer, former Military Vehicle Depot, and current resident of Superfund's Toxic Clean-up list. The place has been abandoned for a good three years, taking all the jobs to Texas—if memory serves me right._

"_That place is a sprawling maze of decaying buildings." I quickly tell George, "Get an exact location on the Anchor, then plot out where the next line will form."_

"_I already told him to do that." Fredricks' growls at me._

_I really don't need static, not now and from him, and a good telling off is in order…_

_But later, a fistfight now won't get the kids back. So I swallow my pride and let it ride._

_And get rewarded a minute later. "It's this long building here." George points out on the screen, where the complex is satellite-mapped in all it's glory. "Towards its south end, here."_

_Fredricks motions to four fellow Agents. They start studying the screen, especially where George is pointing at._

"_As for where the new line will form after pulling this one," Fred begins speaking. "We've figured it'll form up about half a kilometer south of us, with a second one appearing just behind us. Given this things properties, we've also figured this thing of hers could keep going round-and-round several thousand times."_

_That hit like a bomb. At least Fredricks was the one who took it that way…_

_While I simply marveled._

"_She's learned from L.A. Now all we got to do is find her."_

_And find her, we did. But not by means I would have thought of._

_And at that, we nearly didn't make it._

_Relationship is an odd form of Magical Study. Simply put, what every you touch, use, consume, expel, or excrete has for a certain amount of time a specific connection to you, that can be traced by way of 'Physical Connection'—which happens to be our way of saying 'DNA Testing'. But unlike the Mundane method, Relationship cannot be found from aged remains. The testing needs to be performed within an extremely limited amount of time, two to three hours I believe, for it to be successful. _

_If not, the Physical Connection wears away to nothingness._

_All of this came about because George mentioned Harry passing Root Beer through his sinuses just a little bit before he got snagged by the Wall. There was also Tamm's interior, but as long as the Wall was still there we couldn't get to her and Tamm couldn't come to us without being whisked away._

_It was better than having nothing…_

_We just hoped the Agents could find that Anchor. Waiting was never a strong suit of mine, and standing there in the parking lot help me make acquaintances with many others who hated waiting as well._

_In Forty minutes, we got the call; Fredricks' Agents found the Anchor. _

_It was another ten before the Wall was down._

_We moved very quickly…_

_Fredricks had a man, Remmy, a tall, ultra-skinny black scarecrow with wild black-gray hair and the whitest teeth I've ever seen (even mine), go over to the spilled Root Beer to get Harry's trace._

_Which didn't sit too well with Remmy._

"_Hey man, that's gross!" he loudly complained._

_Fredricks set him straight; "DO IT!!"_

_If it didn't work, there was Tamm's backseat. But its size would have been murder for his long frame. Apparently he can't bend all that well. So Remmy got down on his knees and spread his spidery hands onto the spilled beverage. _

"_Damn, this is wild." He then said. _

"_Location!" Fredricks' barked._

"_That's what I'm getting at!" Remmy bit back. "The trail's being shifted around, and it's not accidental."_

_Hazel's really been doing her homework. If she can mess with Relationship, then Harry's as good as lost…_

"_You're using a Connectedness Charm, aren't you?" Fred suddenly asked Fredricks._

"_Reasonable Relativity is its usual name, but yes it does establish linkage by Magi-psychotic means." He answered. _

_Then he turned to Fred, who was grinning like a madman._

_As did I, wondering what was going through his devious mind._

"_What's going on?" _

"_We can call them back." Fred grinned. "Just like the Ferrari—"_

"_No." I had to tell him. When the shock it him, I simply explained, "Hazel knows more tricks than you do. Calling them back would be the first action she'd think of, and deal with."_

"_Really?" Fred looked disappointed._

"_Would she also deal with what I'm trying to do?" Remmy asked. "If so, that would explain a lot of what I'm picking up from here."_

_In those moments we'd forgotten about Remmy, kneeling in his suit by Tamm with his hands in that gooey Root Beer mess on the asphalt._

"_Because what I'm getting makes no sense at all." He complained._

_Fredricks and I, with his permission, went to take a look. Fred and George tagged along, and watched curiously as Fredricks first took Remmy's hand then mine… Connectivity has its usefulness, and is simple to perform. All Remmy had to do was to allow us to experience what he was seeing, and pass it along to whomever had a physical connection to him._

_Remmy was right, it didn't make any sense. They say an Acid trip is always full of wonderful swirling colors and colorful images that contain metaphors of humanities' existence. I wouldn't know since I've better things to do than to blow my mind apart, but the imagery that Remmy was getting was too random. Flashes of places, most I recognized as being in Los Angeles, where Hazel made her home for so many years. Other images were of very exotic locals, they in turn were intercut with more local farming scenes and wide views of the valley in summer…_

_About this time of year. Which made me wonder…_

"_Hey Fred… George, could you come over here for a moment with the Laptop?"_

_Fredricks gave me an odd look, but George sauntered over holding the Laptop with his brother following._

_I told George to hold my free hand, and Fred to watch the Laptop's screen. When he grasped my hand, George nearly dropped the Laptop. Fred quickly prevented that, and soon held it steady in his Brother's hand._

"_Concentrate on the Farming, and anything that looks rural." I then told Remmy._

_By then Fredricks caught on to what I was doing. _

_Personally, I just hoped it would work. I've never done this sort of thing this way before. But I figured Hazel would have though of this as well and countered it with the montage Remmy was encountering. Without a clear picture, we didn't know where the kids were—or could find them. _

_The images fluttered, then, as I told Remmy to do, started stabilizing on what I told him to. _

_Now for the fun part._

"_What's the Laptop doing?" I asked Fred._

"_It's brought up a Map. It's of the Valley." He answered._

"_It kinda looks like the Westside." George slowly said. "Out where we drove fast."_

_Now Fredricks looks at me seriously, but I'm ignoring it for other things. While doing driver's training in the Danger Room, I let them run wild down several isolated county roads you had to know to properly find since you'll never find them on any county maps. They're there, bisecting the fields into nice neat squares. And see only farm equipment and the occasional County-works car as traffic._

_There are also several abandoned homes out there dating back to the early Twentieth Century, in varying states of decay. Perfect for Meth Labs…_

_Or someone like Hazel._

"_Any indicator?" I then ask._

_Fred takes a good close look at the Laptop's screen._

_George is looking slightly distressed. His hand is getting clammy._

"_Nothing ye—Wait!"_

_Fred starts tapping away at the keyboard, shifting the screen to show a close up of the Map area. The other Agents are gathering around, even that freaky Barnabus hanging over George's left shoulder. _

_That in it self may explain George's current condition._

"_I got an Indicator!" Fred practically yelled. "West Clinton, between Bishop and Floyd Avenues!"_

_A two story wood farmhouse kept flickering in and out of Remmy's vision, surrounded by a tall field of Corn that practically brushed up against all sides of it…_

_Perfect Hazel, just perfect._

_The rest, now, depended on me._

_Fredricks and several of the Agents wanted to storm the place, even Fred and George were warm to the ideal. But I had a different twist on that plan._

"_Let me talk to her." I said._

_I swear, Fredricks eyes nearly bugged right out of their sockets. Even Fred and George, and several Agents, looked at me as if I were nuts._

_Barnabus just stood there with that impassive look of his._

"_You said it yourself, she'll kill you." Fredricks countered._

"_Yea, I know. Which should distract her enough for you people to get close to the House."_

_Actually, Hazel likes to play with her food—drawing out the agony ever so lengthy for maximum enjoyment. But there was something else that bugged me about her behavior; she was looking for me, leaving her mark wherever she went, and I know she'd hated leaving Los Angeles in the way she did._

_And I know she'd do anything to go back…_

"_She wants something, and she wants me to get it for her." I openly reasoned. "That would explain why she's here, marking my territory with her personal calling card."_

_And that made them think._

"_So all this time, she's been chasing after you?" Fred questioned. _

"_Who else could she go to for help?" I replied back. "Whoever bounced her out of L.A., figured I wouldn't. That, I'm betting she's hoping they'd figure on."_

_It was the only thing that made any sense, screwy as it was. But being in this profession, screwiness often masks diabolical plans._

_So, it was time to throw a spin into things. Fredricks dispatched several Agents, those he could contact, having them scout out the place while word went out to the rest of the community to not pull anymore anchors—yet. I went back home with the Twins, and while dressing in my best Tux I let them romp through the equipment room and arsenal._

_They were still at it when I was ready. That gave me time to select an appropriate Magnum-sized bottle of champagne and matching crystal glasses from the liquor cabinet. _

_When that was done, they were ready._

_Working off of the Twins' figuring, Fredricks directed the Agents to start pulling the Anchors in specific locations as we made our way towards the Westside by the quickest street route possible. He was in his car ahead of us, and about a mile away from where Remmy said the connection ended he pulled off the road and took in the Twins—leaving me alone for the rest of the trip._

_Oh, they wanted to come along. But it would be better if they stayed back. Their tricks could come in very handy if things went to hell…_

_And, of course, Hazel was surprised to see me on her doorstep._

_"My, what an unexpected honor this is."_

_Bernadine Hazel, for all it's worth, hasn't appeared to age in almost thirty years._

_It's a tribute to how well she controls the Magic. But I wouldn't put it past a few trips to the Surgeon. It's a habit of L.A.'s 'Beautiful People' to put in a yearly, so to appear unaffected by the wrinkles, sags, and accumulated fat that comes from age and children._

_She sit's in the center of a large upstairs room made into a library, in that black leather high backed mahogany armchair that's always a fixture with her surrounded by numerous bookshelves full of dark leather bound tomes that can only be full of the evil she uses. There's a fire going in the fireplace set along the north wall, which makes me wary the moment I enter the room Her legs are crossed in an attractive manner under the skirt of her dark business suit as she holds a large baby-sized Gothic dressed doll to her lap, her brown-blond hair is swept back with not a single strand of hair out of place, her lips are full and coated with red lipstick…_

_As she eyes me like a cat examining a mouse._

_"You went out of your way to contact me. I'd like to know why?"_

_"You can think of a good number of reasons, Jayland. But, it's understandable why you're so direct at the moment."_

_"Thank you." I smile._

_"I have needs." She begins._

_"I know."_

_She smirks. The two Boytoys' standing behind me shift, just waiting for the word to take me apart._

_"Los Angeles is 'My' home, Jayland. I dislike being thrown out of 'my' home, my things taken away." She explains to me. "I'd like to go back, permanently."_

_Well, I could easily tell her to just go south on Interstate 5 or Highway 99, but in the latter case she'll need to make the change to I5 in Bakersfield, and she'll be there in seven hours…_

_I can also talk about the reasons why the Serf's booted her off her throne, the first and foremost one being her suffocating presence and overly dominating attitude. There's also sexual depravity, which easily crosses the 'Line'. _

_But I'm not here to be cute or stupid._

_I'm here to get Harry and Ginny out of this place._

_"And I'm here to throw ideals off of?" weighing my words carefully to bait her._

_"I need your…'special abilities'." She carefully replies. "They're more than ample for what is needed."_

_"I'm not an Assassin."_

_"Of course your not." She replies, her upper lip curling back in a snicker. "You're a Thief, I know. A goodly number of personal things very special to me were taken by you."_

_I try not to smile at that; she herself took those very things from their rightful owners by means seriously vicious. If she wasn't magical, she'd make a perfect politician by how she twists reality._

_"Besides, I know killers who owe me a few 'favors'. But," she adds with a knowing look at me, "I'm willing to forgive…for your assistance."_

_I just about reply with, "And ruin your reputation.", but catch myself saying instead, "This must be important."_

_"Regaining my home IS important to me, Jayland." She snaps back. "My family will not rest until order is restored."_

_Yea, I know it is. But there are a few things that are important to me too, like…_

_"How much are you willing to forgive?"_

_"Everything…"_

_I eye her with disbelief._

_"I'm not kidding." She tells me. "I'll forgive you for every trespass, every swipe, and every act. You'll be able to walk in L.A. without worry of harassment."_

_She's really desperate, that's a lot to simply 'forget'. But as I appear to think it over, I also realize that it's simply not a solid guarantee. Hazel never likes owing people, she always makes sure there's no one left to blackmail her._

_Never…_

_"I want assurances, Hazel." I lay out. "No double-cross at the end."_

_"What makes you believe I'll do that?" she smiles._

_Now it's my turn to give the knowing look._

_"Skywise taught you well." She frowns back._

_I smile. Not too triumphantly._

_But as Hazel readjusts her posture in the chair, I get a fleeting glimpse at the doll's face sitting in her lap…_

_Ginny…? The flowing red hair, the freckles across the nose and cheeks. It a pretty convincing replica, in scale. Which leaves me to wonder…_

_"I have a few things you might be interested in having." Hazel begins. "I know Skywise would have a massive heart attack just by knowing I have them. So let's keep the old dear from crapping out on us—"_

_"List them." I cut in._

_An amused look later, she starts. And boy, the stuff she has, you would get the death penalty just for knowing about; ancient dark magic summoner spells, blood magic rituals, necromancy volumes, demon summoning and control…_

_She sits for a good ten minutes knocking it all out. Of course, weather or not she really needs the stuff is pointless. If she's willing to dump them, she could most likely recite them from memory at a more convenient time._

_So she's not loosing anything at all. Which leaves me facing the Gambler's Dilemma; do I hold, fold, or try walking away? I sure as hell cannot run, even with the place being surrounded by the Bureau. And I don't want to tip my hand…_

_Unless she already knows..._

_"Nice…But not sweet enough." I reply._

_Hazel regards me with a warning look. "Jayland …" she begins, but I cut in._

_"How about all caught in your Dampener Field tonight?" I go for broke. "They've no place in 'our' concerns at the moment."_

_"Charity, Jayland?" she now gazes musingly at me. "You for one should know how unprofitable that can be."_

_"Well, ya, true." I casually toss out. "But, you never know how much you can get in return for helping a fellow Mage out of a serious jam."_

_There's a shift in her face that tells me I've scored a direct hit. That telltale twitch of her left eyebrow on what would otherwise be considered solid stone._

_"Including the kids—all of them." I directly add._

_"You're asking a lot." She coolly replies, holding that doll a little more tightly._

_"My price has always been high." I smile. "And I mean it…All of them."_

_"In deed." Hazel frowns._

_"So, deal? We can seal it over the Champagne I've brought, a fine Magnum of the best Pinot Meunier ever grown."_

_She eyes the dark green bottle suspiciously, even though its cork seal is still in place and I know she can spot a forgery at a distance._

_"A little hasty, aren't we?" She coolly says._

_"You don't accept the deal?" I reply hurtfully, but knowing damn well I nearly blew it with my quickness._

_She eyes me critically now, clutching the doll even tighter while I properly pour out the sparkling vintage into the crystal flute glasses._

_"The faster we agree, the faster you can get home." I simply tell her _

_Behind me, the Boytoys' are getting restless._

"_What do you say?" I ask._

_She doesn't answer. And I don't get an answer…_

_Because Fredricks and Barnabus, with Harry and the Twins close behind, came bursting through the door into the room._

He was crazy, simply crazy. That's what Harry got from Fredricks about why Day had so boldly entered the house alone and unarmed, except for that large bottle of very expensive champagne. Of course, any weapon would have been taken from him the moment he entered the house by the lone guard now unconscious on the floor from Fred's stun cast.

But still, boldly confronting a sworn enemy in such a casual manner. Day was either very brave, or betting heavily on luck to get out of this alive.

"But, I'll tell you what freaks me the most." Fredricks whispered to them standing there with him, holding his large chrome Desert Eagle magnum-automatic readily, "Why no more guards than just this one joker on the floor?"

Harry didn't have an answer. It didn't occur to him due to the tension of the moment. He'd just directed the other Agents to where the basement was, and none of them even bothered raising the matter of his being armed in the way that he was. Nor did they say anything about Fred and George, juggling wands and silenced MP5's with brilliant green magazines, keeping a wary eye on their surroundings as Barnabus stood in the center of the parlor seemingly able to see through the walls around him.

After being satisfied with the ground floor, he tilted his head upward to look at the top floor and attic.

After a short moment, he quickly motioned upwardly.

"Second floor…" breathed Fredricks. "Alright kids, follow me…Barney's got your backs."

Fredricks took the lead, and Harry was surprised that such a bulky man could crouch himself down to such a small stature and still move with ease up stairs. It was like he floated over the steps, as everyone else slowly made due as they could until they were all grouped together at the top. Barnabus silently slipped through them all, heading down a sparsely lighted hallway that branched off to the right. Fredricks motioned to George to follow, then Harry, and Fred, before finally taking up the rear position of the group.

Small yellow lights were all there were, two each hanging at the upper corners of each doorframe, who's weak glare just made the hall visible. Harry could see George in front, his red hair would shine when passing by a light, but any other detail was shrouded in shadow beyond the glare. By about the fourth light, Barnabus stopped then directed George around him and against the wall. He did the same to Harry, while pressing an erect finger against his lips.

_Silence…_

Fred he stopped and had stand on the other side of the door. Fredricks drifted around him to stop between Fred and the door, and then he nodded to Barnabus who turned to Harry.

"_Stay in the center of our group."_ Even in whisper, Barnabus' voice contained an icy creepiness that reminded Harry of being too near Dementors. That his face was covered in sinister shadows didn't help matters much either, especially the way they flickered as his lips moved.

When he turned back and nodded to Fredricks, who then extended his arm outward and a globe of bright light began forming in the palm of his widely stretched hand that before he yelled became too bright to even look at indirectly.

"_NOW!!"_

There was the sudden shattering of a thick wooden door. Fredricks and Barnabus rushed into the room, followed by a bright flash of light and gunfire.

Harry blink the spots out of his eyes, just seeing Fred enter the room before George shoved him forward with a, _"GO!"_

Harry went into the room in a half crouch, just like Day showed then on numerous occasions, with his arms bent at the elbows holding the pistol at chest level. Before him, Fred, Fredricks, and Barnabus formed a half-circle line from left to right. The light Fredricks created hung brightly against the ceiling, revealing the bodies of numerous people on the floor and various pieces of overturned furniture. And more blinded, and staggering along the walls off the room while trying vainly to shield their eyes from the blinding orb.

Day was to the right, several feet away dressed formally on his knees while readying to throw a giant bottle towards a ravishing red-headed woman standing by the fire place dressed in a dark business suit standing next to a fireplace—ready to throw a black attired doll into its flames.

"_YOU BASTARD, JAYLAND!" _She shrieked, _"NOW WATCH HER D—"_

Then she spotted Harry. Her face contorted into shocked surprise.

"_DAMN!" _She snapped.

She threw the doll into the fire…

Then two different things occurred. Day propelled his bottle into the fireplace, beating the doll to the flames which its contents extinguished upon shattering just as something ghostly-gray erupted from Barnabus' chest. Long, tubular, with a dragon's head with a long flaming mane, long whip-like whiskers flowing from under its snout and oversized clawed feet at the ends of spindly legs that reached out to both the woman and the doll…

With a quick wave of her free hand, she vanished before the Ghost could grab her. The Doll was caught by the Ghost before it hit the smoldering embers in the fireplace, and brought back to Barnabus.

In doing so, Harry and George both got a very good look at.

Harry had seen the pictures in Geography Text books when studying China in those long ago days of public schooling, before he ever knew that Dragons really existed in places uncharitable and far from Muggle intrusion. Its sight amazed him to absolute silence, while George cried out, _"Great Merlin! A Great Eastern Dragon!"_

"_His Stand! He's a Stand User!" _Day yelled back, rising from the floor…

The House gave a sudden, awful groan that rattled throughout its entire structure so violently that threatened to tear the entire house apart.

"_AW HELL!" _Day exclaimed, _"SHE"S RIGGED THE HOUSE!"_

Fire suddenly exploded out of the fireplace like rapidly flooding water pouring upwardly, covering the entire ceiling with a thick wave of flame from wall to wall and dropping down upon them all with the explosive suddenness of a predator attacking its prey, tearing the breath from Harry's lungs and threatened to cook him an instant.

Then something grayish grabbed him by his chest, sweeping him upward through the falling inferno so rapidly that if he could yell he still couldn't from the shock of its happening…

Or think…

And just as sudden, he could breathe…

And it wasn't quite so hot.

Someone was patting his cheeks.

"Hey Harry, come on wake up…"

He opened his eyes to see many corn stalks towering over him and Day leaning over him, concern evident on his face.

"What…happened?' Harry managed to gasp.

Behind him and near, something crashed to the ground with a massive rumble that completely brought him to his senses.

The House was now a very large pile or rubble, burning with an intensity that lit up the entire night sky.

"We escaped." Day simply said. "Now, can Ginny borrow that jacket?"

Harry turned wondering just what that was all about. But Day just smiled, motioning over behind Harry to his other side.

There, Ginny was on her knees, on the ground, holding both Fredrick's jacket and Day's tuxedo jacket and what ever corn stalks she could around her else wise nude body in an effort to retain some resemblance of dignity around them all, but blushing ever so desperately in spite of the fact—while at the same time appearing greatly relieved that the nightmare she'd been through was finally over.

Of course he would help out; it wouldn't be decent of him not to help a lady in distress. But as he started to remove the jacket, Harry realized that he didn't have a shirt on underneath.

That made him pause, greatly embarrassed.

The racing of an engine and the sound of crashing corn stalks made them all turn back to the burning house

"Oh, nevermind." George casually said. "Here comes Tamm. We can slip Ginny into the car…"

18


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty.

What matters Most.

Harry didn't appear too interested in _how _they found him and Ginny in the wilds of West Fresno County, nor was he interested in the fact that it was Barnabus' Dragon Patronus, or _Stand_, as Day kept correcting them, that saved them all from the fire. Fred and George did attempt to, but eventually figured that the effects of the long night had apparently begun catching up with their friend. So, when back at Day's house, they simply let him pad off to his room with an earnest _"G'nite."--_even though the eastern sky was lightening, heralding the arrival of the Sun.

Only Harry didn't sleep.

The jacket and the .45 both hit with considerable _thuds_ when he dropped them on the floor. And he sat there on the edge of the bed just looking at them in the growing light of dawn that was coming in through the window.

_It'll either be you or Voldermort…One cannot live while the other does…_

_Oh, give me a break!!_ Harry mentally cried as he flopped back on the bed.

He was left alone, for the most part. No one knocked on his door when lunchtime occurred.

Nor did they call him when a special visitor arrived via Mirror Gate.

No, they left him alone.

Harry didn't recall anything from any dreaming. He closed his eyes once, and when he opened them he was clammy and moist from his own sweat. So much so that when he sat up, the bed sheets stuck to his back.

_Shower…That would work…_

He padded off to the bathroom, feeling the relief from the water that sprayed down from the nozzle above. Sweat, fatigue, it all came off and ran down the drain in a swirling motion—even after turning the water off.

After drying himself vigorously with the towel, he wrapped it around his waist before padding into the room where his clothes were, his regular clothes. The other man's shoes and pants he simply left on the bathroom floor…

And when he stepped out, there was Moody sitting on the bed.

"Beg your pardons, Potter." He gently began. "But after your previous night's adventure, we felt it better to let you sleep instead of waking you upon my arrival."

He was wearing his usual traveling attire; the worn blue suit and hulking overcoat Harry had seen him in before when he personally warned the Dursley's at Kings Cross. His walking stick rested uprightly against the foot of the bed, with his bowler hat resting over its top.

In his scared hands, he was examining the Colt Automatic very carefully.

"You know, with these things, one must practice responsibility." Moody said in an idle manner. "They're like vicious spells recklessly casted by irresponsible wizards, though the projectiles are far more lenient than curses—especially if they hit you in the arm or leg."

With deftness that was surprising even to Harry, Moody smoothly removed the pistol's magazine and cleared its firing chamber with a swift backward pull on the upper assembly. The bullet tumbled through the space where the magazine had been, and into Moody's awaiting hand.

"Never the less, they can be just as deadly." He idlely continued, " If you plan on using them, please be very mindful of their potential." He then rested the pistol and its magazine on the bed, before adding, "I would hate to see you get into serious trouble over it."

The bullet he kept. Examining it while slowly turning it between forefinger and thumb.

Harry didn't say anything. In fact, neither of them said a single word for the longest time…

Then Moody broke the silence, "You were in a bad position last night, Potter…Bernadine Hazel is a Sorceress of notorious renown, perhaps not as bad as Lord Voldermort…But she is worrisome, just the same."

Then he finally turned to face Harry.

"You feel..alright?"

"Fine.." Harry replied with some hesitation.

"Anything else?" Moody asked. "No injuries to your self, or others?"

"We all made it . Ginny's safe as well." Harry continued with the same amount of hesitation. "She lost all her clothes though, but she's fine."

Moody nodded again.

Harry then struggled for something to say. Moody holding the bullet kept grabbing his attention…

"Hazel got away." He finally said.

Moody didn't nod at that. He then turned away, apparently to study the bullet more closely.

"The Colt 1911A1 is capable of carrying seven point-Forty-five caliber rounds in a single magazine, or clip—if you prefer." He began speaking, still looking at the bullet. "Yes, I know about these things…When I became a full-fledged Auror, there was a horrible Muggle War sweeping across half the World at the time…More often than not, I found myself in the middle of it much to my continuous dismay."

He let the bullet slip down to the palm of his scared hand, where he still continued to look at it.

"There are five of these bullets in the removed magazine." He quietly stated. "This one, here in my hand, makes six…"

Harry felt tension growing with in him. As far as everyone was concerned last night, they didn't even bother him over the weapon he was carrying. _Why start asking about it now? _He worried.

_Why hide it as well?..._

"I got it from one of the Guard's" Harry responded.

"The other's too?" Moody asked, turning back to him.

Harry let out a sigh, what would be the point in hiding the fact…His eye could see everything.

"Tell me, Harry, what happened?"

"There were two…" Harry slowly began, "One staying outside the door, while the other entered.  
Moody nodded, more slowly this time.

"I had just managed to get free of the handcuffs…What could I—"

"Start by not apologizing for it." Moody directly told him.

Harry just gaped, not sure of what he just herd.

Moody leaned back on the bed with a free had back for support, took a deep breath, and turned once more to Harry.

"Potter, an Auror works under very strict rules that govern every aspect of their duty." He carefully began. "We were never meant to be Hit Wizards, in spite what people may think…But, it is recognized that extraordinary circumstances can and do occur during the course of any investigation. The vast majority of criminals will not come willingly to arrest, you know. They'll do everything in their very power to resist you, and even try to kill you if they're brave, or panicked enough.

"Now, an Auror _can_ kill in self-defense, but _only_ under such extraordinary circumstances. The Inquisitor assigned to investigate the claim may take a different view of what those circumstances were, it's all dependent upon the Inquisitor who performs the investigation…But…but…" Moody added, raising a finger for emphasis, "Last night…what happened…_what you did_…In my opinion, _falls under that reasoning_."

Harry was confused, was Moody congratulating him in his own way for the pervious night's actions. He just started at the scared ex-Auror dumbly, as his sluggish mind worked over what he'd been told.

"As I told you before, you were in a bad position last night." Moody started up. "No wand, recently managed to free yourself from your shackles, trapped in the domain of a deadly enemy, you damn well didn't want to be recaptured and rebound. Am I correct?"

"Well..yes." Harry got out.

"Yes. And naturally you fought back."

"Yes." This time Harry said it with a nod.

"And you were escaping to get help, yes?"

"Yes." Harry answered, still confused but becoming aware that Moody wasn't condemning him for it

"Granted, they were able to find you without you giving them a signal. But, _you didn't know that. You couldn't have known that_. It was _impossible_ for you to have known that!

"But instead of just sitting there, waiting for someone to find and rescue you, _you_ _acted_ on the _belief_ that _you had to get yourself free_, so _to signal for help!_" Moody grandly explained. "You did everything anyone, Muggle or Wizard, would have done in the same situation; affect an escape, over-power and defeat Guards, obtain their weapons for your defense, attempt signaling compatriots for rescue attempt. I see nothing wrong with any of your actions because of the position you were in at the time. Anyone that says otherwise is either a damn stupid fool or a Death Eater seeking to undermine you. Now, have I managed to get _that_ through to you, Potter?"

"Yes, sir." Harry now easily said, because he now saw the point Moody was making to him; _Survival…_

_His Survival._

Everything he did last night was geared towards that fact. Everything Day had taught, everything he had to do because of the extraordinary circumstances he found himself in at Hazel's abode…

And with Voldermort…Especially Voldermort.

"Albus said you were brave." Moody gently said with a smile crossing his scared face. "One of the bravest people he ever met…"

Harry smiled back, nervously—but relieved.

"Now get yourself dressed." Moody quickly told him, " That bath towel just isn't appropriate for you."

"Oh…right."

"And Potter," Moody added as he rose from the bed.

"Sir?"

"If you intend to keep them," Moody motioned at the Colt and to the jacket on the floor, "please put them in a secured place when unneeded. Otherwise, get rid of them."

Harry nodded.

"And when your friends ask about last night," Moody added, "leave out the important details—alright?"

Harry nodded again.

And as he left the room, Moody tossed Harry the bullet.

Moody wasn't in the house when Harry emerged from his room, minutes later.

Day explained that he had gotten word as to what went on the night before, and had come straight from London to see for himself what happened.

"Apparently he's satisfied." Day said. "Went straight back, and should be at Hogwarts by now."

"Didn't he say how things are going over there?" Harry wondered. It had been a while since the call to Skywise, and he was eager for some news as to what was going on over there.

Day shrugged, shaking his head.

"He said only that they are nearly finished with preparations for our return. What, I have no clue…But given the reception we'll get upon return, it better be good enough to keep us out of jail."

Even Day wasn't so certain. That left Harry wondering as well. With very little else to do but wonder what was going on, he counted down the days to the start of term with growing dread as to what _would be_ happening. It was a distraction from what occurred, what he had done. Moody's words did help keep the nagging menace that kept telling him he'd killed, but the worry itself persisted. But not at greatly as it had before.

Day didn't have them practice that evening.

"Take a break." He told them simply. "You've had a very long night, go have some fun."

There were movies they could view, either on tape, DVD, or Cable, Computer Games, and other whatnot to spend time on. Of course, the Brothers wanted to work out some spell design problems in the Danger Room. Day let them, but under his supervision.

That left Harry and Ginny alone in the upper house.

He hadn't seen her since she bundled herself into Tamm right after the escape from the House. It was understandable, she really wasn't in the mood to speak due to clothing concerns. And approaching her at the time would have been a disaster. But as he laid across his bed staring up at the ceiling for no particular reason, Harry herd the rooms door open very gently and someone quietly walking up to him.

He tilted his head back quickly…

"Sorry," Ginny embarrassedly said, "I thought you were asleep."

Harry drew in a breath. "It's alright…

She was now in a white long sleeved blouse with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and denim jeans that were neither too tight nor too loose. But Harry had never seen her dressed in that fashion before, it was always either skirts or dresses.

And it made her quite fetching too, for they showed her very attractive figure.

"Just thinking." He told her sitting up, because he didn't know what else to say. "There'll be a lot of things to deal with back at Hogwarts."

"So you're going to go?"

"Like I have a real choice." He replied, turning to her. "I'm expecting the Ministry will be giving us one _very big_ welcome upon our return."

Ginny seemed to agree with that, though she said nothing as she rounded the edge of the bed to face him better. A glimmer on the floor caught her eye.

"Going to keep that?" She motioned at the Colt.

Harry had to think. He still didn't have his wand, and without it he was in a bad way against any wizard or witch the Ministry or Voldermort sent after him. Even his newfound ability to use magic without a wand was feeble at best. A Gun could give him a better edge, but only for so long. After that, with the element of surprise gone, he would be in very serious trouble unless a quick escape was managed.

"Harry, please don't be reckless. Too many people…care about you, really."

Harry didn't say anything in response. He just looked into her concerned face.

"It's not weither or not you want to take the gun with you , or not." She suddenly said in a rush. "Personally, I wouldn't mind using it on a few people myself—or some other weapon. But…"

She seemed to freeze up at the moment, realizing what she just freely said. Her face reddened with embarrassment as if she didn't know what to do at that particular moment.

But Harry knew. He finally figured out to do.

"Sit here." He gently told her, motioning to a spot on the bed next to him.

After some hesitation, Ginny did. It amazed him to no end how beautiful she looked in the light, with her hair combed back and tied in a low tail at the back of her neck and how her clothes fitted her. It almost made him forget what he was about to say, but he prodded himself to say the words…

But once he started, they fell into place.

"What matters the most is not how we act, but _why_ we act to what's trying to harm us. Having Voldermort after you _is_ bad enough to make you want to kill out of sheer fear, just to protect yourself…Especially when _it is_ the only way to stop him…But, when the time comes, wouldn't my good nature prevent me from killing _him_—even in self defense?"

Ginny alarmed look made Harry feel that he had started off very, very wrong. But it was pushed aside, as he continued to speak out his feelings. "You told me, before our capture, that I was a '_Good Person_'. That I shouldn't go with your brothers against Percy, as they probably would like me too."

He paused, not only to gather his words but himself as well. "But you see, Ginny…_Good people_ _sometimes have no choice but to do that which is evil_—like killing…As I had to…last night."

Ginny didn't say a word. Harry just sat there watching her in turmoil as he sought to explain it to her.

"_Extraordinary Circumstance_, that's what Moody explained to me when he visited." He continued. "When you find yourself in such a position where there is no other choice but to act in the foulest manner conceivable…"

"Does it bother you?" Ginny gently asked. "Having to have done such…a thing?"

That forced Harry to reflect, and to wonder. He remembered Dumbledore's restraint in fighting Voldermort at the Ministry, where he could have possibly and very easily dealt with the Dark Lord there and then. But didn't appear to try anything greater than to deflecting the lethal curses launched at him. And while counter attacking, he clearly and calmly stated; _"We both know there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom."_

And also that killing Voldermort wouldn't satisfy him at all.

_What would have made him say such a thing? _Harry wondered, _Had he-_

"Harry?"

He blinked, taken out of his wondering.

"Are you bothered by it?" Ginny repeated her self, but slowly this time.

Harry sat there for the longest time…

"I was shocked… sicken by it." Harry finally said in reflection. "But…_I had to get out of there._ There was no other way."

It was simply that; no wand, just nerve and bravery.

And determination…

"If I didn't," Harry calmly concluded, "would either of us be here?"

And that made Ginny think.

"It's not _how_, Ginny…_It's why_." Harry quietly told her. "There has to be reason, a very unavoidable reason, or the act is evil."

Now it was she who fell into a long silence, one in which Harry knew she was dwelling on what he'd said. It wasn't a pleasant thing to consider, Harry hated himself for even explaining it to her. But it was unavoidable for him, the scar on his forehead sealed his fate with that of a horror whose name, whenever it was spoken aloud, struck most with a wild, frantic fear.

Neither can live while the other lives. One hast to die so the other _can live_.

As she was still dwelling, Harry gently placed his hand on top of hers…

She looked up in response.

"I promise to never do anything without _reason_, Ginny." He gently said to her, with a soft smile.

"An Unbreakable Vow?" She softly responded.

"Yes." He nodded, the smile now growing.

Ginny turned her hand over, grasping his. Harry responded likewise as he moved down towards her, as she was moving upwards towards him.

In the middle their lips met, and stayed locked in serenity for a very long time.

11


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter Thirty-one.

Coming Down…

For the next three weeks, Harry wished that time would at least slow at least a little.

But time marched towards the inevitable; the start of term and his inevitable return to Hogwarts. There was just no way of avoiding it, unless he ran away from it all—which was out of the question.

Everything he had and cherished was wrapped up with in the turmoil affecting the Magical World.

A World _he_ had to save.

But here close with Ginny, Harry began realizing the importance of other things more personal to him. Things that went beyond solid friendships and camaraderie, and much deeper and important than he ever known…

It also made the weight of things greater on his shoulders.

He loved Ginny very deeply. There was no denying it, even to him. They always gravitated towards each other constantly when together; a fact that didn't go unnoticed wherever they went or during evenings spent at Day's House. That love, her company, made things bearable in those rapidly closing weeks…

Alas, though, he was till powerless to avoid fate—his fate.

But during that time remaining, he did the best that he could--as did Ginny.

As did they all…

Soon after the matter with Hazel, Ginny began warming up to Day becoming less and less cold and distant towards their host. Sometimes, she would even engage him in discussions on a variety of subjects relating to both Magical and Mundane. He took in stride, as if the rudeness never occurred, but her brothers were clearly surprised by their sister's behavior change…

So much so in fact that whenever they could, they'd either pester her or Harry about it.

Especially Harry.

It was during one fine evening in late August, at a party celebrating the recent demise of Hazel, that Fred and George's insistence in '_knowing_' finally got to him—and he told them, politely; "Look, maybe it finally got to her that she was wrong about Day, and there was nothing for her to worry about—just like we've been telling her all along."

They looked at him skeptically.

"You didn't do anything, at all?" George wondered.

"Nothing." Harry stated.

"Would Day have?" Fred wondered.

That made Harry gaze at them both with exasperation, bordering on screaming.

"_Look_." He rasped, so not to attract the attention of the other party goers, "_Do you trust Day or not?_"

Fred and George recoiled back in surprise.

"That's a stupid—"Fred began, but Harry cut him off.

"_Do you trust him?_" Harry determinedly rasped.

"Of course, we do, Harry" George defended.

"Would we be here if we didn't?" Fred remarked.

"_Good!_" Harry then added, "Now, why would you think he charmed Ginny into being nice to him, now, after having to deal with her rudeness for so long?"

The Twins started to speak, but stopped with open mouths and realization evident on their faces.

"So there!" Harry concluded. "Also, it maybe because Day was very instrumental in saving her life that night."

"Well…that too." Fred admitted.

"That was right clever what he did with the Champagne bottle." George commented.

As so Harry felt relieved and victorious over the fact that they wouldn't be pestering him over the matter, which lasted right up till Fred curiously asked him; "Then why is Ginny spending so much time with you in such a close way?"

That, he had no answer for.

"Have the two of you been snogging?" George cheekily asked.

"Or doing more…_naughtier things?_" Fred then stepped in.

All Harry could do was concede defeat on the matter, or scream in frustration—which was his second option.

Then, there was the Ferrari 309 still in Day's living room.

He really would have liked the Twins to remove it from there, preferably back where they first spotted it, since it was in the middle of everything…

But Fred and George couldn't recall where they had seen it.

"_What?_" Day blinked in disbelief.

"It's true." Fred told him. "With all of the running around we did since—"

"We've forgotten where we saw it," George stepped in, "and got if from."

"_You're kidding_." Day quietly replied, still in disbelief.

Ferrari's in Fresno were a largely rare occurrence, and largely sold at dealerships west and north of their Blackstone counter parts. The problem was, not too many of Fresno's wealthy went out and bought them in great quantity—especially with other choices like Bentley's, Lotus', Porsche's, Lamborghini's, Mercedes-Benz's, BMW's, and the more expensive domestic models available.

Oddly enough, there were no reports of Ferrari's stolen from any sales lots or from private ownership in the news. The car had no license plates or ignition key, only a computer printout of its total cost plus accessories taped to the driver's side door that indicated it was from a sales lot—but that didn't have an address indicating who was selling the car.

Leaving Day even more confounded as to where it came from…

"Neither of you remember where you saw this vehicle?" he asked them again.

Fred and George shook their heads.

"We did drive around a lot." Harry put in.

"It could have come from anywhere." Ginny then added.

"But we never _physically _left the Valley." Day told them, still in a dilemma over the Car. "Where could it have come from?"

And that was the question none of them could answer. Finally after a week, Day simply gave up on the matter because there were more important things to deal with and Fred transfigure the vehicle down to a more manageable size which fit in his pant's pocket.

At least, Day could get about replacing the smashed coffee table.

One serious matter that kept nagging at them was how to get Harry to Hogwarts on September the First, without attracting too much unwanted attention from innocent people—and especially the Ministry. News reports, confirmed by both known and anonymous British posters, stated that the Ministry was going all out to put on a strong front for the rest of the Magical World. And those plans created of two serious points of worry; first was the fact that a Magical Guard of Hit Wizards, Auror's, and Magical Creatures of undisclosed origins and hidden identities, were being formed to protect Hogwarts and Hogsmead against every conceivable intrusion and attack possible during these 'desperate times' which, quoting Minister Scrimgeour himself, _"Protect our future generations from the Dark Lord's evil."_.

"He's just asking for it, isn't he?" Fred rudely commented while pointing out the story on the _WizNet _board.

"Him and a lot of others." George added. "There's more."

The means chosen of bolstering this invincibility, Scrimgeour laid out highly elaborate plans of fortifying the Hogwarts Express and every mile of its rail against every conceivable intrusion and attack as well—as well as inviting numerous Ministers from around the World to come and journey in relative safety to Hogwarts in the very presence of Minister Scrimgeour himself.

"You just know the whole lot of em' are going to be slaughtered once their outside of London." George sarcastically remarked.

"I say at the Scottish Boarder." Fred then put in. "If the train leaves on time, they'll reach it about two hours after sunset. Perfect time for an ambush."

"Any time is perfect for an ambush." Day told them. "It's the fact that they've gone out of their way to explain everything so publicly leaves me wondering."

"About what?" Ginny innocently asked.

"Well," Day began to explain, "it's a given that Voldermort does know when the train will be leaving London. The Ministry, doing what they're doing with all this public reporting of their plans…Well, to me, it appears they're trying to provoke Voldermort into taking some kind of action against them."

"A trap?" Harry wondered. It seemed so idiotic, so foolish; Scrimgeour gambling with so many lives that the Dark Lord would even attempt to attack upon the Hogwarts Express in such a boldly open manner. But, Harry then began to realize, that maybe what the Ministry was betting that Voldermort _wouldn't_ attempt attacking such an obvious target—especially with all of the fortifications Scrimgeour had planned for the journey. They appeared capable enough to fiend off any attacks launched against them…

"They even published at time schedule in the Prophet, of all things." Fred pointed out. "Alerting parents to get their children to the station on time."

"We could simply drive our way up, bypass the Hogwarts Express entirely." Ginny easily suggested. "That way we'd be past most of this."

But Day was thinking, and very seriously too. Harry could guess what it was as he stood reading the computer screen.

"Even worse things could be achieved with a couple of well placed Imperius Curses." Fred went on.

"Or any other number of things." George agreed. "Even Dragons."

"Not openly." Harry scoffed.

"Harry, old man, you can be surprised what a few well placed Oblivators can do to any Muggle that sees too much." Fred fondly addressed him.

"If they'd wanted to." Ginny quietly stated. "They'd probably kill the poor person for fun."

"Or for a warm-up to the big kill." Day grimly added. "Scrimgeour's setting a lot of people up as targets, while possibly _hoping _they won't be attacked."

"Won't?" Ginny wondered at Day, as her brothers began to as well. Harry just sat next to her quietly, having thought along the same lines just moments before.

"Bait." Day simply explained. "Scrimgeour maybe making a bet that Voldermort won't try attacking him with all this publicity. Then again, all this maybe a ruse to trap Voldermort—Fred, is there anything on advanced notification being sent to parents?"

As Fred scrolled the computer's screen up and down as he and George closely looked over every line for such information, Ginny began to wonder aloud as Harry thought things out.

"The fake Harry would be with him, you suppose?" she asked Day.

"To die a hero's death." Harry darkly added then, because it simply made sense to him. "He did tell me that they didn't need me anymore."

Fred and George turned away from the screen then. Even Ginny gazed worriedly at Harry over his remark.

"It would be academic for them to keep you somewhere safe, Harry." Day began, and then he paused with consideration. "Scrimgeour maybe a grand schemer, but murderer he isn't…At least not deliberately."

"How about conveniently?" Harry then asked.

"For what purpose?" Day evenly responded. "He can claim the fax-Potter was an agent placed to mislead Voldermort as a means of protecting you. When you appear, his claim would be justified. It would be a waste trying to fight him over it."

Fred and George nodded in agreement with themselves, and went back to their searching. Harry wanted to continue with his argument, but found it difficult to continue on the same footing he started with. Granted, it was just all speculation; Voldermort and his followers were under no obligation to even try such a catastrophic attack, and would probably not even bother with appearing just to let the misguided feel superior about themselves and their plans…

But, Harry figured, that such an attack was both possible and _would be_ carried out by the Death Eaters at their Master's urging. The calamity caused by Voldermort's successful attack upon such an important crowd would send monstrous shockwaves throughout the Magical World, just the very thing he'd desire—the perfect opportunity to install his followers not only in numerous positions with in the Ministry, but in Ministries around the World.

Not to mention easily achieving a position of dominance which would be total and unbreakable.

But what could they do about it? Calls to and from Hogwarts created a mixture of different ideals, and caused many of them to be scrapped over the unwillingness to simply sit back and let it happen without trying to help…

It would be easy, Fredricks and Barnabus, or, as Day started calling them, _Fred and Barney_, visiting unannounced as usual, delivered the Bureau's response to the matter, just take Harry to Hogwarts by other means and let Scrimgeour get immolated by the Dementors—if they did attack.

And there was Moody's response to the matter, coming by way of Sky's cellphone. "_I can see it happening._" Moody's voice growled easily from the phone, "_I also agree with you on the amount of destruction such an attack can cause. But, I also feel that Scrimgeour isn't telling everything to the Prophet._"

"He's keeping a few aces up his sleeve?" Day asked, as the other listened.

"_That term is foreign to me, but if it involves deceit that would be what Rufus would do._" Moody replied. "_He was good at it as an Auror, and as the Head of the Auror Office used it as the means to root out numerous Sorcerers and other Evil._"

"So, we're left to just wait and see what happens then." George frowned.

"_I'm sorry to not be able to advise you better on this._" Moody apologized. "_I still have contacts; old friends and current Aurors. I'll get in touch with them to see what is really going on._"

"Unless Scrimgeour's gotten to them." Day suggested.

"_Not likely._" Moody sent back.

But Day wasn't easily satisfied with the results. It could easily be seen in his behavior, especially after the call from Moody. It troubled him, and he was trying to think ahead of the problem to work everything out that possibly could occur. Sometimes, he would leave the room. One time in the early evening, he stepped out into his back yard.

"For a smoke." He off-handedly claimed.

He didn't have any cigarette though, and stayed out there for a good long while.

When he finally returned to them, it was as a person who'd firmly made up his mind.

"I want all of you to get to bed." Day addressed them there in his living room after the end of the phone connection. "Starting tomorrow, early, right up till the time we leave for England, we're going to run combat situations on a Train in the Danger Room. It'll be better for all if we start with a good night's sleep."

And that said it all.

Between this, that, and everything else that dogged them during those last weeks in Fresno, Harry gained a new found respect for Caution.

He also realized how unforgiving the Danger Room could be.

It was what Day created soon after sending them off to bed; a possible fight for survival on a moving train against numerous enemies, both mundane and magical. Not exactly the Hogwarts Express, but reasonably close in its layout and design of the interior, they all agreed. But what Harry, Ginny, Fred and George had to encounter in the simulation was anything but easy.

The 'Villains', as Day referred to their encountered adversaries, kept appearing and attacking them from a wide range of areas. Sometimes they'd attack from the carriage compartments; either by first opening the door or being especially dirty by attacking through the door, blasting it to splinters if they even detected his presence was close enough. As they did with the bathroom doors (it didn't matter if it was the Girl's or Boy's Bathroom), the Kitchen doors (and from the insides of large cabinets, though the Ninja's hiding in the kitchen oven which Day added weren't very nice to encounter), the Luggage car, (where attackers appeared to be hiding inside the Steamer Trunks), and eventually the Engine itself—where several villains were hidden under the coal.

He wasn't the only one to suffer indignities. Fred, George, and Ginny all had their own eventful encounters weither they started out heavily armed or just with their bare hands and wits. Shooting each other accidentally, either with fake bullets or spells, became a constant occurrence, especially when they were tired of constantly running through the Train numerous times. But it was Harry who was having the most trouble dealing with all the surprises the Train simulation threw at them, especially humiliating was constantly falling off the roof of the Train cars while trying to reach the Engine that way—even while running in a zigzag fashion crouched forward against the wind as he was taught.

But they learned, especially from having the advantage of learning from their mistakes in the simulation, as opposed to learning the 'hard way' out in the real world, and apply such to the 'next' time he ran through it. This was especially true when all four of them went through it together, where Harry realized that 'Leadership' was much, much more than being an excellent teacher. He had to know what to expect from those who followed him, and use their talents effectively to achieve the desired goal of the simulation they were currently in; be it '_Protect the Train from Attack_', or '_Reach the Engine_', which were the ones they were focusing on.

Thankfully, Day was patient with them through all of this. But at the same time, he also pointed out their mistakes in rather ungentle ways sometimes. It was miserable at first, with hurt feelings and the occasional angry word fired off. Sometimes Harry wondered if a fight was about to break out, especially between Fred and Day. It certainly seemed close enough, but Harry never really realized how seriously Fred, and George as well, took things until now. The closest he'd ever come to actually witnessing such counter behavior from them was when their Father was nearly killed two years ago. In fact, Day's behavior towards them was very much like Sirius' was that particular night—with the same amount of restraint. But here, it was easy to see neither of them took to failure kindly.

Apparently, they took it as an insult. And that was frightening to see.

But it was just after one very humiliating simulated run through, where Fred appeared ready to exploded, that Ginny, who of all of them managed to survive the longest in these runs, stepped up to put her older brothers, and even Harry, on notice about their constant failures.

"We're not helping each other; we're not even considerate of each other!" She sternly criticized, preventing an actual fight from breaking out. "If we were a Quidditch team, _we'd be even more pathetic than the Chudley Cannons currently are!_"

Fred turned to speak, probably something smart and rude considering how irritated he was at that moment, which made Harry suddenly consider punching him if he did, then stopped as Ginny glared back at him in defiance.

"If you are going to tell me to go _stuff myself_, Fred, as you clearly now want to do," she lowly growled at first, with her voice rising to a near scream while continuing, "I will warn you that when we are reunited with Mum and Dad _I will have a lot to say!_"

Nobody spoke after that for a minute or two. Then both Fred and George slowly backed down and away from her and their anger as well. That, if anything else, finally set then right on what they were learning, making them more focused and goal orientated as a group than as individuals as well as doing wonders for everyone's attitude. So by the end of the remaining weeks, even Harry could finally complete the Simulation alive either by going through the Train, or by running on top of it. And later on, both Fred and George apologized for their behavior.

He also had better respect of the Twin's formable magical abilities and of Ginny's quick thinking, but most of all Harry realized how a Team had to function in unison to achieve desired goals. Not like in Quidditch, where all he did as Seeker was to keep a look-out for the Snitch and never became involved in trying to move the Quaffle to score a goal, or help in deflecting the Bludgers away from his teammates…

In the Simulation however, Harry learned the hard way that wasn't how a Team worked--but was an excellent recipe for breaking one easily. A lot of their early troubles occurred because of keeping to the Quidditch principal where Harry, being the 'Hero', made absolutely stupid mistakes in tactics by taking on all duties himself as the Twin's and Ginny simply followed. While similar in nature to Quidditch, the Simulation however demanded each member of the Team take on more than one specific duty during the course of it's run in the event of one of them becoming 'seriously injured' or 'killed' during the course of it's run--especially becoming flexible in how they worked together during seriously stressful situations.

But on the day before they were to leave for London, what Day said to them all made an impact on all of them.

"Now, let's see what really happens tomorrow."

That last August day was brilliant and hot in Fresno, and devoted to much last minute shopping for as it was explained to them London was nine hours ahead of Fresno with regards to the Time Zones.

Harry knew the concept; it was the means of keeping time relative to the Sun's angle in the sky as one crossed over long distances…

But unfortunately the Weasley's didn't.

"Why not just make one time for all places?" George asked off handedly.

"And have the Sun high overhead at Midnight?" Harry countered with a jest. "Wouldn't that ruin a few special spells?"

George tried thinking up a comeback, but nothing was worth using against the logic of what Harry said. So after a large early lunch at a fancy restaurant, contacting both Doc and Skywise, and the Bureau, to be ready as well, they bedded down for one last 'night' before facing what they so knew would be waiting for them in England. For Harry, a dose of Dreamless Potion would have been nice. He would have been tormented by the possibilities that manifested themselves in his dreams; of Scrimgeour, backed-up by both Fudge and Umbridge, shackling all of them hand and foot for their 'attack' upon the Ministry, of Percy leering evilly over him while stating how right he was about him being delusional—while all his friends were being put to death by Voldermort, after being rendered helpless by the Ministry's idiot bureaucracy…

Even Ginny…

Harry snapped awake after crying out to her in his dream.

And was then quite surprised to find her curled up next to him in her nightshirt, on top of the sheets. Of course, she was just a reddish blur in the dim light trickling in from the outside next to his right shoulder. Harry couldn't quite reach his glasses which were on the table without twisting towards her, but all of the moving he did prior to noticing had already awakened her.

"Harry?"

His heart was beating fast, and his breathing restricted. What if someone came in, he worried, and saw them…

"Sorry." Ginny apologized, slowly rising while rubbing her face. "I had a nightmare…With Mum and Dad not around, I—"

"You too?" Harry quietly asked, wondering.

Ginny stopped rising and faced him, her face broken by the slowing growing shadows of the evening. But Harry knew if he squinted just right her face would be a little more clearer to see.

"I see I'm not the only one." Ginny appeared to smile. "It just happened, right?"

Harry nodded.

"Mine was a while ago, when it was brighter." She glanced at the window over Harry's bed, then back to him before continuing, "The Ministry had arrested all of us, while ignoring the fact that Voldermort was killing everybo—"

Harry gently placed two of his fingers over Ginny's mouth. When she stopped, he then gently brushed her cheek.

"I had the same dream too…"

Ginny's tilted her head against his hand.

"We are alike." Harry gently smiled as the fear of being discovered slowly drained away. "Interesting…"

"Really?" Ginny smile back, mischievously. "So it's not just magic then?"

Harry matched her smile with one of his own.

"I thought not." Ginny purred…

Then started moving on top of him, which surprised Harry a lot due to her suddenness.

"Ginny, your Parents--"

"My parents acted no differently when they were our age." She purred back. "The only difference is they did it at Hogwarts after sneaking out of their rooms at night…"

_Really_, Harry wanted to say, _at the cost of whatever House Points the Teacher who caught them cared to take—and special punishments…_

But by then, Ginny's lips were touching his…

So he didn't say anything.

The bedside alarm went off at Nine-fifteen that evening. Harry cursed it mentally, but the mighty blow he leveled across its top seemed to shut it up quite nicely.

He didn't want to get up, he didn't want to leave. Here with Ginny in bed, he found a bliss that was far more desirable than all the Magic he knew, held his arms loosely wrapped in a bed sheet.

It could wait…It could wait until Hell froze over. He didn't care at all.

Not at all…

Then Day pounded on the door, calling, "_Time to go and roll! Breakfast will be on shortly."_

_Aw damnit_, Harry mentally cursed, because even Ginny was stirring—freeing herself from the bed sheet. For a moment, he entertained the ideal of showing together with Ginny. It was something to keep the bliss going for just a little while longer…

"I gotta get back to my room." She squeaked, smoothing her nightshirt out.

As she started to go, Harry grabbed her hand from the bed.

"Ginny…"

Once more he felt her longing kiss on his lips, which cause him to loosen his grip.

Then she pulled away. "_I'll see you at breakfast…promise._"

The door to the room closed. And she was gone.

When he finally padded out to the others, George had his hand outstretched before him. A small throwing knife suddenly appeared in his hand, which he lazily turned making it into a large machete before changing it into a large chrome Magnum Revolver and finally turning it into his wand.

"Show-off." Fred snorted, as he started outstretching his hands, "Now watch this!"

"Not now, breakfast is ready!" Ginny called to them both from the kitchen.

Pancakes, scrambled eggs, sausage patties and links with toast and jam with plenty to go around and not much left when they were finished. During this feast, Harry and Ginny sat exceptionally close—which no one seemed to mind. Time, though, was another matter all together. It never seemed to go at a slow, convenient pace. But whip along at breakneck speed, foiling their attempts at enjoying themselves before having to pack-up for the trip back through the Mirror Gate to London.

But once the trunks were packed and stored in Tamm's trunk, and calls made to those expecting them, they somberly climbed into the Grand Am after locking the house down…

This time, driving forward into the glittering brass Mirror Gate and entering the warehouse on the London docks at Nine-Thirty on September the First.

16


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty-two.

The Congregation at Kings Cross.

At Kings Cross Station, it was a given occurrence on every September First there would be someone asking for the location of Platform Nine and Three-quarters—always in the morning before Eleven A.M.

Mostly children, alone, pushing their baggage on one of the Station's carts. They didn't appear to be jokers, vying for the attention of the Porters. They were polite when asking, but were generally treated as if they were wasting people's time asking for the non-existent platform—and afterward, they were never seen again until the following June before once more arriving with their baggage the following September.

And never asked where Platform Nine and Three-quarters was again…

That made the Porters and the Station's Manager somewhat happy, because then they had to contend with the assortment of odd eccentrics that also arrived on that date and before Eleven A.M. as well. Not all were particularly 'bad' in appearance; thought wouldn't hurt them to learn a good dose of fashion sense. Then there were those who carried themselves in a very regal manner that commanded respect, though they and their children dressed as if they'd stepped out of a Charles Dickinson story. There was something eerie about those folk that always sent a chill down the spines of Porters who tried exchanging pleasant greetings with them…

Something cold, forbidden. It made people want to stay out of their way.

And once they entered the space between Platforms Nine and Ten, they'd vanish like joking children—never to be seen until the following June.

Fine, excellent, the Porters didn't care because they considered it none of their business. They had their jobs, and didn't want to loose them over being suspicious of the occasional 'odd' person.

But this particular September day was in more ways more tense than normal at Kings Cross Station. This was the day that the Station's new addition was to be opened amid great public fanfare, allowing people much quicker access to the trains than the older section did with more ticket windows, several of those fancy video displays that showed the arrival and departures of trains along with the occasional advertisement for the latest whatever the marketers wanted people to buy, and several more shops and restaurants for passengers to brose and enjoy themselves. While this was all fine and dandy, several of the long time employees quietly, and sadly, lamented the loss it would soon cause. Because many of the long time Porters' had formed longtime friendships with many who ran the newsstands, boutiques, and small café's in the Old Station, and those people found themselves shut out of the new addition due to price of space there. For a lot of them, running those small shops was their only source of income and pride for nearly their entire lives. Now they were facing a very uncertain future after being shunted aside by people too much in a hurry to talk over news, have their shoes shined, eat a decent meal, while drinking pricey cups of coffee from paper cups.

It didn't help matters that there were now more odd people than before moving along the platforms, chatting merrily amongst themselves in a rather unusual way.

Amongst them was a slim vivacious red-headed woman wearing that cowboy hat with the long black leather duster, ragged jeans, thick metal studded belt, cowboy boots, and a black shirt that didn't even cover her entire chest who strolled through the crowds carrying a large guitar case. She caught several glances, some admiring, others not, from the passengers around her but appeared to ignore them all…

She and the other odd people simply moved on down the platform, and the Porters didn't pay them a second glance at all.

Dolly kept her pace relative to Doc, who was pushing the Luggage Cart laden with their luggage, behind her.

She was used to the stares, had been for years. Though every now and then, one of those 'admirers' actually had the nerve to approach. Most were simply religious, trying to invite her to their Church while passing her tracts that told of God's love and the way to Salvation lay in the repenting of one's sins and trusting both body and soul to His Will…

Dolly would just smile, say "Thank you", and take the tract which would then fold up into her pocket for use in some other way than originally intended. Why waste good paper?

Then there were those who'd berate her choice of attire as being too explicit if not downright suggestive, which she'd flip the finger to and walk away. If they became insistent, the moment they laid a hand on her they would then find themselves Judo flipped over her back to a very hard landing on the floor. Or have their ankle shattered by the heel of her boot, followed by a hard elbow to the stomach that left them being sick on the ground. The pretty-boy Don Juan's, and those who followed expecting an 'easy time' always took a mule-kick to the crotch when they got close enough.

And if they became _really_ insistent, or drew weapons after that, they would be staring down the barrels of her Colt Peacemakers. What they did after that point would determine weither they lived or died. Dolly didn't care either way, just as she did while walking along the train station platform and paying attention to which one she was on.

And noticed those who slipped into the pillar near Platform Ten when they thought no one was looking.

Dolly sidestepped to her right, slowing to let Doc come up so to whisper to him, "_Third pillar_."

His head turned in that direction, peering out under the bill of his battered Banzi-88 baseball cap.

"A lot of officials." He drawled. "Wonder where the students are."

"There a few in there." Dolly told him, and then added, "The fun part will be in getting there without attracting attention to ourselves."

"Got the tickets?" he quietly asked.

Dolly touched her cowboy hat. "And the 'Guest Pass's' as well."

"I'd suggest humming a merry tune." Doc quietly suggested

Dolly nodded.

Doc was dressed in contrast to her, much more 'normal' in his white running shoes, tan cargo pants and large pocketed shirt worn under his battered two-tone varsity jacket. Only the Banzi Cap, which no one could figure out, and his somewhat wild hair would hamper this appearance. But as it was nobody really noticed them, or even those gathered around the pillar apparently talking.

In fact, not even they were noticed slowly approaching the crowd with their heavily ladened luggage cart by those gathered around the pillar. This Dolly made sure of with a tune hummed just below her breath, people got out of their way without even realizing it while they carried on with their conversations so completely self-absorbed that they ignored the two with their cart even as they rolled it right in front of them and through the pillar.

The Ticket taker at the gate didn't even flinch as Dolly handed over the necessary documents. He punched the tickets, and handed the Pass's to an Auror who stamped them after a close examination while Dolly still hummed her merry little tune.

A Red Cap took their cart for loading just as they reached the platform, pushing it to the others waiting to be loaded into seven long dark cars set immediately behind the magnificent steam engine and before seven very grand looking carriages where many officials and dignitaries were boarding, but not before Doc retrieved a bulky green backpack and Dolly a large guitar case. There, worried families with their equally worried children gave each other worried good-bye's as the latter leaned out through the windows of numerous ordinary passenger carriages set behind the dignified ones, forming the third and final part of the Express. And all of this under the watchful eyes of numerous Auror's and Hit Wizards; the latter identifiable by the double crimson stripes down the shoulders of their robes while the former wore their special gold badge over the frontal left breast portion of their black robes. Both noted this and maintained their casual stride towards the train all the way down to its very end, where they were met by a very nattily dressed Dynell Archer twitting with the top of a very fine mahogany cane.

"Have troubles getting here?" He asked, keeping his voice low.

"No." Dolly definitely shook her head.

"Apparently they're used to poorly dressed travelers." Doc commented.

Archer smiled, nodding his head.

"Are we the first?" Dolly then asked, hopeful.

Archer nodded. "You're also going to have company in the car…Please follow."

He knew what lay beyond the drawn window shade. Their voices came through clearly just like the light from the numerous lanterns used to light the platform. But he wouldn't dare grab the draw string to raise the shade, not here—not now.

So Rubeus Hagrid kept his large hands folded tightly with each other in his lap, waiting desperately to the train to finally be underway.

He tried to nap, but the noises outside kept him on edge. People talking, strategies and possibilities of weither or not the train would be attacked or not while in route. Some made off-colored jokes about 'half-humans' which made his hair bristle and almost tear through the door of the compartment to demand an apology from the offender. Being a Half-Giant himself he'd most likely get it, under normal times. Now, he'd probably be removed from the Train, placed in irons and quickly shipped away to Azkaban, as he nearly was following the Ministry's rude arrival at Bill and Fluer's wedding.

They had kept him in the stocks down in the Ministry's dungeon for several days, releasing him only for 'interviews' with Aurors and other officials who just couldn't seem to stop smiling or constantly asking him repetitive questions in their irritatingly pleasant tones which began wearing away on his nerves. If it hadn't been for Olympia, he would still be there or in Azkaban most likely for 'being a Danger to the Wizarding Community'—the current 'catch-all' charge the Ministry used against its critics to get them out of the way. But at a cost; for the Headmistress of Beauxbaton's School of Wizardry had to make a concession that neither Hagrid nor Bill would ever be allowed back onto British soil—that coming from the French Ministry of Magic, if she wanted their help in the matter.

If they violate that rule, as the Ministers told Olympia, they would not raise a cry concerning what the British would do to them if they returned to Britain.

Hagrid didn't argue the decision. Without Dumbledore, there was no way he could see this matter being resolved in any lifetime. The Ministry was more than helpful in freeing him, and once the paperwork was signed and whatnot was even more than helpful in speeding along his departure to France. Bill and Fleur arrived a week later, both miserable wrecks from their experiences with the Ministry, with no chance to say good-by to friends as was the case with Hagrid.

This was in late June.

For Olympia's sake, he did his best to fit in at Beauxbaton. He even willingly tidied up his appearance with less grungy clothing and trimming both his wild hair and beard while learning French. But as time when on, the more he grew and adapted to his new environment—surprising even himself. No more was he bothered by the strangeness of where he was, just as no more was he considered an 'outsider'. People did appreciate his enthusiasm for the more wilder magical beasts, especially how readily able he was when taking care of them. This in itself put aside most of the hurt he suffered at the hands of the British Ministry. Though it was still painful to be cut off from his old friends, he made new ones who respected him not only for his knowledge on magical beasts but on his ability to try fitting in.

That in its self earned him respect, just as it did from Dumbledore back at Hogwarts…

_Try…_

It saddened him to think that Hogwarts' kindly headmaster, who'd given him the chance to redeem himself many times, wasn't around to see his old gamekeeper finally grasp the concept of what he'd been explaining to him every time he wallowed in a state of despair and misery.

Just as it saddened him to leave Olympia behind.

He didn't want to come back, why should he? He was happy for once, his old friends, even Dumbledore, would understand that…

But then men who came to Beauxbaton that day, which had started out so happily, pointed out to both him and Olympia that if the Dark Lord wasn't stopped in England it was very doubtful that the planned Containment would stop him.

"It's a matter of how the Outside will react." The representative of the French Ministry a small square-headed man who's hair was shaved close on the sides and parted neatly down the middle on top, explained seated before them in his official dark green robes and next to the dark-skinned, dreadlocked American representative in his gray robes. "Such a significant disruption of their lives would expose all of our existence to them. But if we don't act to contain the Dark Lord, the calamity he'd cause upon the Outside would not only expose us but could very much incite the Outside against us."

And that left nowhere safe, uncharitable and otherwise.

Hagrid, knowing the scope of the danger, was needed back in Britain, largely for his experience in dealing with Voldermort from years before, and back at Hogwarts. The French Ministry reassessed the terms of his banishment, and agreed under legal oath in writing that they would raise a storm over his arrest should it occur just as the American's would. Even going public, if necessary, to force Minister Scrimgeour into releasing him. Because once he agreed, he would be considered a full citizen of France with full rights and no risk of being deported—which the representative explained, was currently being considered.

At that, Olympia wanted to fight. All of his papers were proper and in order, with the proper signatures and stamps required in their proper place. But Hagrid calmed her down, because he knew that none of that really mattered. If they wanted him to go back, he would haft to go back regardless of what either of them could say or do about it.

"Either I go, or they'll sends me back." He painfully told her. "There is no choice."

He hated to see her cry, but he was right.

And as Hagrid sat there in the train compartment, he tried focusing on Olympia's face. How she smiled, how she laughed. For it was the only solace he had in that now foreign land.

There was a knock on the compartment's door, three quick raps just below the window. Startled out of his reprieve, he nearly forgot that was the code-sign taught to him and almost forgot the three taps on the door's glass in response.

"Forgot what they were?" Archer coyly asked him when entering the compartment.

It made Hagrid bristle, then he impatiently sighed "Just 'erry up and git in here."

The American representative did, with two others. One a red-headed girl with a weird hat and clothes so ragged under her long coat it even made Hagrid gasp in surprise. Her companion was more moderately dressed by comparison, and carried a large backpack with him. It was he who closed and locked the compartment's door. The girl just gazed up at Hagrid clearly surprised.

"Aaaye." She uttered in amazement.

"You've seen Half-Giants before." Her companion chided while dropping his pack on the bench seat. "You've even babysat their kids on occasion."

"Yea, but…they were never so…wild looking." She cautiously explained.

Hagrid, while never succumbing to the temptation offered by magical beauty aids and treatments (if he could ever afford such in the first place), was always careful to keep a neat appearance. At least the best he could do with his hair and beard with what he had, which had to be made for his hand size, which was normally crude, sharp, and quite dangerous. Clothing though was never a problem, just an unusual demand upon the tailors who soldiered well with the requests for making and repairing—until Hagrid himself learned how to use a needle and thread.

Though surprised by how easily the other identified him right off, the girl through her reaction managed to irritate him. He hiked up his pants and glared disfavorably down at the girl.

Her male companion just sighed, glancing at Archer hoping to move him to action. Which he did, by introducing them with diplomatic style; Mister and Misses' Russell, allow me to introduce you to Rebeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Key's and Grounds at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Instructor on the subject of Magical Creatures, and member of the Order of the Phoenix."

While the mispronouncing of his name did make him bristle slightly, Hagrid did take pride in the other two titles. Archer said them in such a way that made them important. Still though, it took Misses' Russell a moment to realize what she'd been told.

"Oh, you're _Hagrid!_ Yes, Hermione becomes very animated when discussing you."

"It helped her overcome a lot of things." Her husband smiled, and promptly introduced himself to Hagrid by extending a hand. "Darren's the first name, but people call me 'Doc', due to my profession. Dolly's my wife's name—"

"Well not exactly," She countered, "but I do prefer it over what my parents gave me."

Hagrid nodded, smiling, and was not only impressed by Doc's boldness, rarely would one ever offer a hand of friendship to a Giant, but also by the strength of his hands.

They were foreigners from the sound of their accents, but that was quickly pushed aside for, "Hermione," Hagrid concernedly asked, "how is she? I herd something awful happened to her…"

"Somebody tried putting her under a Puppeteer Spell, and did it in the most cruelest manner possible." Doc explained with a frown. "Did a serious amount of deliberate damage. Most people suffering from such would usually be rendered to the mental state of an infant, likely to remain that way for the rest of their lives. Though there are cases where some managed to get most of their lives back to a level just below what it was before the injury."

Hagrid just stood, taking it all in but not understanding too much of what Doc was telling him, especially the part concerning the fact that Hermione's brain was much better formed than most due to the possibility that as a baby she was in her mother's womb a little bit longer than normal. But that isn't what he wanted to know…

"How is she?" he hurriedly asked. "Is she well, can…I see her?"

"Uncle Sky's takin' her and Ron ahead to Hogwarts." Dolly spoke up. "She's a little slow, and has some trouble with balance—though not as bad as a month ago. But she can function—"

"Just be patient with her." Doc added with serious tones. "She's got a ways to go."

From the outside came the long, shrill tones of a train's whistle being blown in rapid sequence.

Archer immediately checked his wristwatch.

"Thirty minutes early!" he exclaimed.

_Thirty minutes? _Even Hagrid was caught by surprise.

"They can't go now." Hagrid concernedly responded. "Ther's usually some who come late."

It was all extremely unusual.

But Archer, seriously agitated, was starting to open the compartment door. "I don't know, but that's the signal for them to get underway. Stay in this compartment, "he warned them while slipping through the door, "don't leave for whatever reason—I'll be back!"

And he was gone.

Hagrid leaned over, locking the door, while Doc asked Dolly, "Better get Jay on the horn."

He turned in time to see Dolly pull out a dull blue box, the lid of which had several white numbered buttons on it's inside surface. Hagrid had seen them before, Muggles in London had them pressed against one ear or another as they spoke into them while either walking, driving their cars, or trying to perform several tasks at the same time either with animals or children—or both. Dolly simply pressed three buttons then raised the box up to her face, but didn't place it against her ear.

A stressed, _"Hello?"_ soon came from the box.

"Jay, Dolly. The Train's about to leave the station, an—"

"_What!" _Exploded from the box, _"It's thirty minutes till—"_

"Well—"Dolly started to fluster back, when the train suddenly gave a lurch that nearly toppled all of them over. "We're moving."

"_Oh that is just great!"_

"Well, sorry." Dolly countered.

"_You're sorry?" _Day countered from the box, then Harry's came screaming right out of it, _"We're being chased by the Police!!"_

12


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter Thirty-three.

The Perfect, most Idealistic, Plan…

_Jeeze, this really sucks…_

_You'd have figured that after a couple of months of other things, the Police would have forgotten about all about us and most especially what Tamm looked like…_

_Well, just as soon as we poked out nose out of the Industrial area, a Cycle-Cop comes along speaking quickly into his headset while trailing us. Then he kicks in his lights and siren, and all hope goes right out the window._

_Now, during Dolly's call, we're racing through an outlying neighborhood with seven cars and three more bikes after us and the local late morning traffic isn't helping us._

_"You know," I hear Fred yell over the commotion; "right about now would be a good time to perform some magic!"_

_As if leaping over hastily created road barriers, flattening road spikes, and pushing aside the commuters ahead of us (which was slowing Tamm down the most) wasn't enough._

_"Right in front of all these Muggles?" Harry exclaims over his shoulder._

_"Well," Fred, now sounding insulted, shoots back "I was being just open minded for suggestions."_

_Me, myself, and I are hurrying as fast as possible. If they have a helicopter, it would be moments before they use it…_

_And we're nowhere near Kings Cross Station…_

_I send Tamm into a sharp left, onto a one-way street so narrow it's impossible to park at the curb, hoping for distance. But much to my growing dismay, there are several cop cars parked right in the way with barriers set up on the sidewalks._

_"What now?" Ginny exclaims._

_What now? _

_Sorry Harry, but Fred has the right ideal on this. Just before Tamm would have hit the first car head on at high speed, I have her shrink down til she's small enough to drive right underneath the parked cars then grow her back to normal at the other end to (literally) fly around the corner. Which was nice, because there was this parked delivery van in the middle of that street doing its business, we would have otherwise crashed into. Not that Tamm would have been seriously hurt, but she would have been seriously angry with me about it. And this is not the time for her to be angry._

_Fred and George just whoop it up in the backseat while Harry gives me a stern look._

_Not now Harry, we'll talk later._

"_Tamm! Map!" I command. "Where's the Station?"_

_According to the lines, we're seven miles east along the outskirts of London._

_According to Dolly, the Train's already starting to leave the Station._

"_How about flying?" Fred now suggests._

"_Or Apparate?" George suggests._

_Now I haft to say no. "I don't know what's there, or where things are. I'm not about to hurt people because I'm in a hurry!"_

_Yes, both ideals would be nice. Tamm can fly, but I don't need making a spectacle of myself if I can help it. Besides, there's a bridge up ahead that can nicely slice three miles off our distance. It sits next to a disused one the map says is closed due to demolition…_

_Unfortunately, the Police have figured on us heading towards it and are moving to block with more units converging from all sides. With one last turn, I blow the majority of them off. The bridges lay before us, and already Police Cars are blocking off all possible escape routes…Including the Bridges, but apparently ignore the dilapidated one._

_As if it matters really. But I like keeping a low profile, not do anything too fantastic in front of people…_

_If it can be helped._

_So I keep up the speed, heading towards the bridges, when a Cop gets the cute ideal to ram Tamm. That one flew out of a small side alley, and manages to clip Tamm's rear perfectly so she starts spinning. Quick action with the steering, and Tamm herself, keeps a calamity from occurring, but now we're racing backwards towards what the Cops hope is a trap._

_Aw, the hell with low profiles._

_I race Tamm backwards across the dilapidated bridge, slipping past that feeble block that was set up much to everyone's amazement; the kids, cops, and myself. It's not particularly long, maybe about fifty yards at best. But while racing across, I manage to hit every crack, pothole, and broken substructure there is there—causing the whole thing to collapse, sending the three cop cars that decided to pursue into the river. _

_Now time to relax yet, for once safely on the other side there are more cops charging towards us in mass._

_By now, even Harry has given up on being secretive._

"_Aw, nuts." He spits, throwing up his hands just as I send Tamm towards the sidewalk._

_I'm not sure what he's thinking, Ginny either, but the Twins are simply having a ball behind me with all that's going on. Well, for my next trick, they'll most likely be in orgasmic ecstasy. I make Tamm leap into the air towards the Office building, and twist so she lands on it with all four wheels and continue on our merry way across it's face, and the faces of several more buildings after leaping to them over streets and broad avenues, much to the amazement of Police Officers and onlookers below. It doesn't do much good for the buildings, especially all that glass being cracked by Tamm's weight, but it does get us the rest of the way to Kings Cross Station…_

_Where there seems to be a congestion of sorts occurring, I mean the whole entire front of the place is congested with numerous cars and people._

"_Jay!" Dolly cries over the cellphone, "We've left the station!"_

_Well, that tears it. _

"_Hang on!" I tell the kids, and launch Tamm right at the front doors of the place._

_It doesn't appear to be anyone in side the place. In fact, it looks like they're having some sort of ceremony going on complete with a broad yellow ribbon laid across the front doors of the Station and several people dressed in their best standing before it having their picture taken. _

_It all looks really nice._

_But with moments to go, the assembled group suddenly notices Tamm flying right towards them. Of course, it's not everyday you see a car flying at you. But these folk didn't keep standing there wondering if it was some hallucination, for they did the right thing by quickly getting out of the way allowing us to crash through those big glass doors with the yellow ribbon draped across the windshield. Not that the ribbon was wide enough to block my view, but it was making it difficult to see where we were going—causing us to plow through three moderately sized somethings, one with the Starbucks Coffee logo over it which finally wrenched the ribbon off. Just in time to, for the overhead computer display directed the rest of the way to the boarding platforms, reachable after smashing down a giant glass door sending news reporters and numerous onlookers scrambling in a wake of paper and expensive camera equipment. But forming a barrier right in front of us that slowed us down, giving security officers the chance to climb onto Tamm's body in the effort to stop us. _

"_More magic?" Harry casually asked me. _

_Seeing that we were already thirty minutes late, this had to end and fast. _

"_More magic." I replied, and made Tamm go small once more. So small, that those seeking to stop us suddenly found themselves landing on the ground as we darted through and around herds of giant feet and the massive wheels of luggage carts. _

_Unfortunately, we couldn't see where Platform Nine and Three-quarters was. So we went up, right up a woman's dress whose skirt we inadvertently raised up nearly to her head while doing so and into the rafters of the boarding platform's roof. Not a pleasant experience, though George was all for a second look until Ginny glared him down. But the accident also made a good distraction away from us, and tied up any pursuit in the form of a now irritated woman beating the tar out of the poor sod standing behind her with her handbag at Platform Eleven._

_Not an irreversible mistake. A fast twist and barrel roll put us on the right course for the right column, zooming over the heads of several witches and wizards, who were distracted by the fighting going on the Platform, and right into Nine and Three-quarters._

_Right about then, Dolly called to say they had just cleared the northern reaches of the city._

_Not a problem, I've had Tamm ride on rails before. And she can also track the Express, so we know where to go…_

_It was the sudden purple beam of light that shot right close to our right side that made me jump, just as we were starting to settle on the track that made me jump. And just as we hit the tracks, it was followed by a storm of them._

"_Aw damn! It's Percy!" Fred loudly cursed through the rear window._

_Tamm was almost to size, and we were almost free of the station, when I hazarded a glance in my door mirror. A tall red headed man, quickly being joined by many others leaping off of the platform, standing directly behind us on the tracks with his wand held in a two handed outward grip usually reserved for handguns. The yellow stream he then launched just glanced off of Tamm's rear as we hit the curve, but nearly sent us rolling right off the tracks into a slow moving freight. It also revealed the brothers knowledge of profanity to be a very extensive one in deed, though now we were heading into the tangled knot of train tracks that could lead one everywhere they knew to go. _

"_But they'll know we're heading for the train." Harry obliviously told me._

"_Hopefully, Harry, they won't know when we'll arrive on it." I nodded, before calling up Tamm to do a tracking trace, while dogging and jumping around the various commuter and freight trains in our path all the way out of London._

It was the second time Dynell came to him since the start of the trip, this time carrying a message written on a folded piece of white paper;

_**Left London, but with trouble…**_

_**Should reach Express in minutes, if no other trouble…**_

_**Stand-by.**_

_**Observer.**_

Bone nodded to his assistant. As Dynell stepped away, The American Ambassador managed to find his 'train legs' and walk the Ministry's special luxury car to it southern end, while pocketing the message in his robes. He didn't try to look suspicious, or aloof with his actions. The message had left him concerned; since he figured his agents would have had Harry onboard by now.

What made it worse was _they had trouble._ What kind, Bone wasn't sure. But if it involved the Ministry, then everything was at risk. What kind all depended on keeping track of Scrimgeour, in the corner near the small but well equipped mini tavern sharing drinks and laughs with several other visiting representatives. As long as he idled around the others, exchanging pleasantries and such, he hoped that Scrimgeour and those around him wouldn't think he was trying to ease drop on their conversations…

"So, your certain that Potter can best the Dark Lord." Asked one ruddy faced Wizard.

"It is a definite fact that he can and will." Scrimgeour responded with mock irritation. "Why, the Ministry's sweep of Olden Town has removed all of the vermin who'd supported the Dark Lord, denying him the ability to seek their aid and comfort in his desire to rule."

"What if they were simply placed under an Imperius Curse." A younger, more sharply attuned wizard supposed to the Minister, as he enjoyed his Cherry.

Bone would have expected Scrimgeour to cough up some of his drink to venomously defend both his position and the raid itself, which displaced many of Olden Town's poorer inhabitants while destroying their residences in the process. A fact that was rarely raised in the Wizarding Media, let alone by Scrimgeour himself. But had WizNet burning for weeks on end with charges and claims that it was all a convenience for the Ministry to rid themselves of 'unregistered magic shops' and all 'annoying troublemaking persons' while not at all dealing directly with the problem of the Dark Lord.

Scrimgeour though didn't miss a beat, and enjoyed his Cherry with a most satisfied expression on his face before answering the question's poser directly, "Sir, I assure you that all who were 'taken away' by the Auror's were full and whole-hearted supporters of the Dark Lord—_and nothing less_.

"Can this be proven?" The sharp Wizard continued.

"Completely." Scrimgeour instantly replied. "Several have confessed this fact in their usual haughty manner, and plans were recovered that detailed an attempt on the lives of Harry Potter's Muggle relatives, the Dursley's, in an effort to thwart his efforts against their Master…

"And as a security precaution preventing that occurrence," he then added in a lighter tone, "the Dursley's are onboard this train under heavy guard."

Bone stopped at the mention of that, and involuntarily turned to face the group with an absolute look of astonishment on his otherwise composed face. As it turned out, he wasn't alone with his reaction to this surprising news. Several in the group with Scrimgeour or with in ear-shot of the discussion, reacted in the same manner.

"_Muggles on board this train?_" Exclaimed one well-dressed Witch.

"That's way too rich, Rufus." Added another, whom Bone couldn't readily see. "That violates numerous provisions of the Anti-Muggle Laws."

"Why not have them in a safe place instead?" Asked the ruddy faced Wizard, appearing quite distressed by the revealed news.

"Because that is what the Dark Lord would have figured on the Ministry doing." Scrimgeour dramatically pointed out to them all, turning slowly to address those around him while doing so. "He never would have guessed that such a bold move would ever be taken by the Ministry. And most likely now, has his minions searching through every other place he figures the Ministry could be hiding them…

"But he'd never, in his entire life, ever realize that they would be _safely hidden at Hogwarts itself!_"

He stopped turning, directly facing Bone with an expression of absolute triumph.

"Wouldn't you, Ambassador Bone, agree that that would be the perfect, most idealistic, plan ever conceived?"

Bone didn't readily reply. Still surprised by the earlier revelation of the Dursley's being onboard having left his usually controlled mind running in absolute panic, he didn't do too much more than simply stare in shocked silence. In moments, though, Bone managed to get his mind under control enough to even respond.

"Stunning." He quietly said. "Simply stunning."

Scrimgeour laughed loudly over that, just as a concerned Percy Weasley entered the room by bursting open the door.

9


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter Thirty-four.

Slipping Past.

The vintage crimson and silver Hogwarts Express made its way northward along its exclusive track through the rural heart of England, whipping through green fields and heavy forests, far from the towns and villages that dotted the landscape, pulling its numerous cars along at an impressive speed, as numerous Auror's kept watch all around from the train's platforms and several reserved passenger compartments with wands and numerous curses at the ready.

They were taking nothing for granted, or for chance. They were the defenders, charged with the protection of the train's valuable cargo from the evil intentions of the Dark Lord upon those it carried. A mission they all personally volunteered for.

And their very presence made it quite difficult for a small white Pontiac Grand Am, riding on the rails with its tires some distance behind, to even get close enough. A fact not lost on those in the car in question.

"You know," Ginny earnestly stated, "I'd like to get out and stretch a bit."

"At Forty miles per hour, you'll stretch alright." Day remarked.

Ginny sighted a dubious look at Day, even though he wouldn't be able to see it.

This was because he, and everyone else, was studying the schematics being displayed on the inside of the windshield--showing how the defensives for the Hogwarts Express were situated. Ginny simply drew herself into a tighter ball, and sighed.

"You know Ginny; there really isn't much privacy way out here." Fred pointed out.

"And besides," George added, "we'll loose the train."

Tamm was displaying a very significantly detailed display of what the defenses were on the Express. Beside the presence of many Aurors, there were also maintained fields of Magic surrounding the train extending out several hundred yards around and above. These were similar to Anti-Apparation spells in nature and structure, but were layered three deep and each would cause a different effect. And the farther out they went the less powerful they were.

"An Alarm Spell." Day figured. "If we get close enough, they'll know."

"And if we get really close," Fred pointed out to the display, "we'll get snagged and trapped. That's if I'm reading this correctly."

"A _Tar Baby?_" Harry wondered, recalling a particular magic spell Day taught them about made to bind anything to a specific place. Perfect for trapping unwary criminals and such.

Ginny squirmed a little between her brothers. She was becoming very uncomfortable back there.

"Yea Harry, that's about right." Fred replied. "The first two outward layers of defense deal with physical assault, while that final one deals with Apparation."

"And there's the Guards they have on the Platforms." George added. "Even if we make a move, they'll see us coming."

Day stared at the diagram, quietly working things out.

"Alright, Pop-Quiz Time." He suddenly spoke to them. "Even with this ability to 'see' their defenses, what are we still doing wrong?"

That caused Fred and George to gaze wonderingly at Day, but Harry knew what the American was getting at as he stared at the display. It was something they weren't seeing; even with what they had they weren't seeing everything. Harry gazed with intent at the display that showed the Hogwarts Express from an overhead point of view…

"We're only looking at this from one side." Ginny suddenly, plainly, stated. "We're got getting the whole view of the defenses configuration."

It was on the tip of his tongue, but Harry bore Ginny no malice. He turned to smile back at her, and she replied back with a distressed smile while Fred and George moaned over the fact that they had missed the obvious.

"Excellent, Ginny." Day grinned. "It's an easy trap to fall into when dealing with structures. That's why a good thief takes their time to figure every angle out."

"Because not every defense is perfect." Harry added, remembering the quote. "There's bound to be a flaw, however minor, somewhere in the construction."

"Good, good…Very good." Day replied. "Now, let's see things from a different perspective."

At Day's command, Tamm first shifted the diagram of the Express to the side then once more from the back end--which was facing them—while still maintaining the location of its surrounding magical fields. By then, it became apparent where the solution lay.

"Look! The Outer Rings go no farther downward than the tops of the rails!" George exclaimed.

"And the Tar Baby ends only a foot above that." Harry added.

"That's probably to avoid dragging most of the ground along with the Train, Harry." Fred remarked. "I wouldn't want to be the one having to explain why that happened."

"Yes, but passed that," Ginny added with some distress, "Getting through the third defense shouldn't be a problem, because we would be physically moving through it and not Apparating."

"Pretty much like you are sister." George commented. "You shouldn't have had so much coffee."

That earned George an angry glare.

The Auror's standing guard on the rear platform had to contend with the occasional train jolt that upset their balance. A stable hand on the frame work took care of that, but it also made their guard duty difficult by rooting them in one place. They, simply, to be more effective, had to move around on the platform—forward and back, and side-to-side—as the Train moved along.

Granted, the Hogwarts Express had a multi-layered Spell-Defense around it. But it was only on significant layer, with the guardian Aurors and Hit Wizards providing a thick inner layer of defense.

The key in beating it, Harry figured would involve how small Tamm could get, and how steady she could be while traveling behind the Express. Speed, as Day explained, could work for and against them especially when they hit the vortices produced in the Express' wake.

"If those boys on the back platform are sharp, they'll see us if the vortices flip us upward." Day explained. "With Tamm's magical nature, that's bound to get us snared for sure."

And if they were sent into a rail by the same vortices, that would be the end of all of them right there and then. But risks, though, were a necessity. Day often explained how they affected him when he conducted a caper. Some seemed overly cautious, while others came off as reckless, but when it all added up there was no denying that such judgment had kept him from harms way many times.

Just as there were times when despite the risks, things had to be done…

"Hang on kids…Here we go."

Almost instantly, the track rails became rapidly rushing dark brown walls looming up on either side of them, and the ties were long wooden plains devoid of any grass or animals. These were broken up by insanely designed valleys of gravel that made up the track bed, growing ever wider and longer.

"How small are you planning on going?" Harry asked, trying to find the Hogwarts Expressed in their reduced state.

"Small enough." Day simply said while concentrating on both his flying and speed. "But not too small."

Harry glanced at him.

"We don't need run-in's with molecules and atoms." He added. "Tamm would never forgive us for that."

"D-fon-Net-LEE." Came from the radio between them.

The Twins didn't make any comments, and Ginny was bearing her personal pains in silence, since all eyes were on the ever moving diagram showing them closing in on the outer reaches of the Express' magical defense.

"Harry." Day calmly began, "Take the occasional glance in the door-mirror; I don't need to be kicking up a dust plume behind us."

As small as they were, any such plume wouldn't amount to much to a casual observer. But to an Auror, especially those they were trying to hide from, it would be cause for alarm to see such a plume racing towards the Express. Harry couldn't see any, even with Day adjusting the mirrors. Fred and George kept watch out through the rear window, and Ginny's grimace became worse and worse with each agonizingly slow second they came closer to the train while being buffeted by its vortices trailing in its wake. Day flew as steady as he could, but it still felt to Harry as if he were on his broom in the middle of a powerful storm. Unseen winds shook and bounced them with increasing force the closer they came, sometimes veering them towards a collision with one rail or another making Day twist Tamm on her side, often quickly, so she'd hit wheels first leaving a trail of orange sparks behind. The maneuver worked on the rails, not so well against the gravel. But they were still flying in any case, which Harry considered a plus.

He just wished the ride would come to an end, and very quickly at that.

"_Hey! How close are you to the Train?" _

Dolly's voice came clearly from the Cellphone mounted to the dashboard as they were halfway through the snagging zone.

"Oh, give or take twelve feet." Day answered back. "You have a plan?"

"_The Compartment has a window. Wanna try for it?" _

"Whichever's faster." Ginny powerfully grimaced.

A moment later, everyone else in the Car came to the same agreement.

"Of course." Day responded. "Where are you?"

"_Goin ta' be on the right side of the Car. I'll stick my hand out and wave."_

"Wait a minute." Day told her, then asked everyone around him. "I'm going to speed Tamm up, any objections?

"No." Fred simply said.

"Not at all." George added.

"_Just do it!"_ Ginny painfully raged.

Harry looked forward and up; the Aurors standing on the rear platform looked larger than actual Giants, looking out well over them to the land beyond.

"Shoot the lot!" Harry directly told Day.

And without a reply, Day accelerated Tamm forward. They raced under the Train's rear, slowly past its axels a bright brass wheels to come out just ahead of them causing Harry's heart to jump for they nearly hit them from behind while doing so. Now they were along side the Train, flying low in its shadow but edging upward towards the side of the railcar with Day griping the steering wheel tightly every bit of the way.

Then with a sharp twist, they tipped away from the railcar's body before landing against its body wheels first.

"Sticking?" Day worriedly asked.

"Sss-U-ck!" Tamm answered.

Day was very relieved.

Harry was about to ask if they really made it, but just then a window ahead of them opened and a thin arm protruded waving into the air.

"Tell Dolly we made it." Day quietly told him.

Scrimgeour's behavior went from jovial to alarmed in no time at all, after Percy started whispering in his ear.

A fact that wasn't lost on Bone at all. "Is there a problem, Minister?" He asked properly, but just loud enough to be herd by those immediately around him.

Percy regarded Bone with a heated stare, disliking the Ambassador's intrusion, as Scrimgeour foundered in surprise of what he was told.

"N-nothing, Ambassador, nothing at all. Scrimgeour quickly gulped. "Just some last minute trouble…Do excuse us."

Scrimgeour and Percy hurried out through the door the assistant came through, leaving Bone in bemused state. But not wondering at all what it was about, since the note still in his hand told him everything.

There was a room in the car just ahead of the posh saloon car they hurriedly left, kept vacant for security reasons. Here, Percy led the still startled Scrimgeour into. But by the time Percy closed the door, Scrimgeour's mental facilities had returned in full.

"You swear it was the same vehicle?"

"Small, American coupe with wings on its back, with a rear plate that read 'TAMM' in bold black letters with 'California' above it in smaller." Percy tensely answered. "They hit the track, and rode on it like a train. I nearly got em' with a shot to their rear."

Scrimgeour thought quickly about it.

"Have the rear guard been notified?"

"As soon as I arrived." Percy answered again. "Also, all stations have been alerted to be on the look-out."

Scrimgeour couldn't argue with Percy's efficacy in getting the word out, nor could he find anything wrong with what he's done so far. From his coat, he brought out his large pocket watch, consulted with what it displayed before snapping it shut and quickly putting it back.

"Another eight hours of travel." He quickly figured. "They may still be behind us waiting for the chance to move up."

Percy nodded in agreement.

"Send out a flight of Seekers." Scrimgeour then ordered him. "Tell them to use their Invisibility Cloaks until nightfall, and hang back about twenty miles behind the train with their attentions on the track. If they spot them, one is to alert us here on the Train—and we'll take appropriate action, understand?"

"Understood, Minister." Percy nodded.

"Then check on the Dursley's. I don't want them to be uncomfortable."

Percy nodded to that too, and Scrimgeour dismissed him after that. After a few moments of composing himself, Scrimgeour left the compartment stepping back into the posh saloon car not only ready but expecting Bone to round in with his diplomatic style in the effort to put him on the spot.

He knew how to handle such people. It was all a matter of style.

But when he opened the door to reenter the posh saloon car, Bone wasn't where he was expected to be.

He was instead already entering the fifth car behind the saloon car, passing unnoticed to happily chatting students in their compartments while receiving respectful nods from patrolling Aurors in the passageways and those standing on guard on the platforms. Bone kept his pleasant smile with them, but once passed it became a vision of intense concern.

_Were they attempting to rendezvous with the Train, now? _He worried. Those guarding the very rear of the Train would certainly spot their approach and sound the alarm, causing no end of political grief to occur—especially between allies. The complicated webs of support spun between both counties would be in danger of disruption and even cutting if Day screws up at this point. Though getting Potter away from the Ministry was the correct choice to make, the discovery of who was responsible for it wound be very damaging on many levels. American was leading the push for Containment if the Dark Lord wasn't stopped, though Europe was close behind with its very own proposal, and if any incident occurred which exposed the treachery America instigated against England…

Bone kept that in the back of his mind. The need to focus was very important now.

Especially now.

The last two cars of the Train were empty for the most part of people. They were there only to give the impression that there were more people on board than there actually were, hopefully fooling and foiling any rearward attacks by the Death Eaters first by misleading them, then trapping them by disconnecting the cars from the rest of the Train.

But there, standing before the door to the Women's washroom, was a young woman with long red hair wearing grungy clothing and a brace of single-action revolvers whose low slung holsters were strapped to each leg allowing for fast draws from each. In fact, she was standing in such a casual way with one slender arm behind her holding the door's latch.

That would be Dolores Russell. Dynell's report on those recruited by Day was quite extensive on physical detail, and, when able, their individual magical ability. Both she and her husband managed to make the train before it left London, and were riding in the rear with the Half-Giant, Rufus Hagrid.

It was just the two of them alone in the passageway, no patrolling Aurors in sight, and she was humming a little tune under her breath.

Musical Manipulator, one of the more uncommon magical abilities, not rare but oh so excellent for controlling large quantities of people instantly with little effort. So Bone, feeling slightly relaxed, sauntered over to her.

"Hello." He smiled. "Been standing there long?"

"Oh, not really." The woman practically beamed. "Little sister finally is answering the call of nature."

She was clearly American, the accent in her voice said it all.

"Ah, yes—the necessity of it." Bone beamed back. "She must have been holding on for most of the Day."

Bone waited for any reaction. He wasn't interested in revealing himself to her at the time that he knew would occur later. What he wanted to know about was Day himself, so he sprinkled his conversation skillfully in such a manner with what he wanted to know given a little extra emphasis. Anyone around them wouldn't have paid much attention to their conversation, especially to their words. Unless they were looking for the obvious…

"All the way from London, she was." The armed red head still smiled.

Bone sighed with real relief. And after a quick glance to either side of them smiled, "As soon as you can, I'd like to speak with Mr. Day in the forward most Saloon Car."

"Of course." She nodded understandingly.

And very satisfied, Bone bid her a pleasant evening before heading back into the Train.

A minute later, Ginny wobbled out of the bathroom.

11


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter Thirty-Five

Before the Storm.

They existed, creatures cloaked in despair and gloom and stirring in fitful containment. They did not like being confined, even if it was temporary and necessary for the plan. For beyond their confinements, they could sense happiness they longed to devower, driving them to repeatedly attack the confines of their magical prison in the effort to get at it.

Had there been Aurors or Hit Wizards patrolling in the vicinity of the luggage carriages, had there been a suspicion raised about the odd sounds, banging noises, and the unusual chilling sensation coming from the baggage carriages, their existence would have been discovered and the plan thwarted. But with the train moving at its great rate of speed such noises were simply taken for improperly secured trunks and various other items. That was considered the job of the baggage handlers, not those defending the Hogwarts Express from attack.

Nor was it even considered that such beings could even be transported in such a manner…

Hagrid had seen more in his lifetime than he'd ever let known. It was a personal matter, the numerous injustices delivered upon him simply because of what he was--not because he ever did any harm to anyone or ever wanted to. Those memories he was very reluctant to share, due to the pain they'd inflicted upon his already battered soul by remembering them. He did try sharing his love of the Magical World's numerous creatures as the instructor of the Care of Magical Creatures class at Hogwarts, if not overly successfully in the endeavor. But prejudice and cruelty from the narrow and mean ended that after four years with his 'exile'.

Then there was the matter of _why_ he was wanted back, without either a clear notion or clue of what he was going to be doing at Hogwarts... The Representatives never went into great detail over it beyond the threat of revoking his newfound citizenship if he didn't comply with the 'request'.

But the arrival of Harry, Ginny, and her Brothers in the tiny white car that Dolly pulled off the side of the train by leaning out the window was something that even surprised Hagrid to no end. Especially when they stepped out of it.

They had greeted him like a long lost friend, Harry especially, who was apologetic about what happened at the Wedding and what he went through. Ginny was quicker, departing his company for 'just a little while' with Dolly in hot pursuit; which left Hagrid rather bewildered until Fred remarked about her 'Drinking too much.'

"Ah…I see." Hagrid simply nodded, because he understood the remark.

Then there was the car's owner, whom George introduced as 'Jayland Day', whom to Hagrid's perspective appeared slightly shiftily looking but not at all hesitant towards extending his hand in a friendly way. The Twins explained that it was he who kept them all safe and hidden on the far side of the World, and taught them all a good many useful things. Day was modest about it, but became vague when Hagrid asked him exactly what he'd taught them. Fred and George filled in the details, which comprised of silly Muggle-inventions such as cars, guns, cell phones, radios, and computers. Hagrid really had no ideal what a Computer was, or that you could either play games, or converse with others, on it. And Television, during those few times he was ever close to one, was simply too irritating to believe. Leaving him wondering about most Muggles in general…

But teaching them how to successfully break into any place, with or without magic, and how to counter any magical defense, really raised his concerns--prompting him to turn on Day asking more directly this time; "You taught them _what?"_

"And…Magic too." Day hesitatedly responded.

"And what _exact_ magic were that?" Hagrid then asked, feeling not only very protective of his young friends but becoming very concerned about the character of this Mr. Day. Fletcher was bad enough with his schemes and opportunistic character, but teaching them _how_ to be criminals were steps taken way too far as far as Hagrid was concerned. The return of both Ginny and Dolly though disrupted whatever response Day started to give, especially when he was told by Dolly that Bone wanted to see him up towards the front of the Train.

He completely sagged with dismay at this news. He neither expected, nor wanted, even to speak with 'Bone' for that matter. But resigning himself to his fate, and before leaving, Day directly told Hagrid; "You may not like what I taught them over the summer, but I trust them with those skills—especially nowadays, but such may keep them alive. And, it was better for them to learn, as opposed to just sitting around watching television which we could have done."

"Which would have driven us utterly mad." Fred added.

"So, Hagrid, please stop being so…_Percy-like_." George put in.

_Percy-like? _Hagrid's mouth dropped open in surprise and his skin rankled at the thought of being anything like their traitorous older brother, and was about to yell that at them when Harry and Ginny stepped up to plead with him.

"Hagrid, please…don't yell." Harry quickly pleaded.

"You know my brothers don't mean it." Ginny quickly added.

"We'll tell you everything that happened." Harry offered.

"Indeed," Ginny added, bobbing her head quickly in agreement, "everything."

Her brothers glanced at Day, who with a sigh added to them all; "I'll be back. Try not to argue too much over it, please?"

Then said his good-byes and exited the compartment, deftly slipping past Hagrid to do so.

They didn't touch any of the food that was brought to them.

Dudley wanted to, but his parents, namely his Father, wouldn't allow it. The sandwiches, cookies, pickles, and sweets with properly chilled bottled drinks sitting on the large trolley before them in their 'private compartment' was becoming increasingly as tempting to him as it was to simply telling off both his parents that they were being utterly stupid about it all. But really couldn't muster the courage to do so. In fact, he was wondering _why_ he couldn't have any of it. It had been a terribly long time since he or any of them had eaten, and why now of all times had Father forbidden any of them to eat what was laid out before them. It certainly didn't look bad…

Worse, every time he tried moving, even something innocent like adjusting his sitting poise on the compartment's bench, his Father face would take on an extremely red complexion and yell at him with such explosive anger that even his giant moustache bristled with energy.

"_No!_" he'd snap. _"Don't you even dare consider eating any of that!"_

And Dudley's Mother would look crossly at him as well. Though by late afternoon, even she was eyeing the food like he son was. And whenever her husband's attentions were on Dudley, she'd sneak some. Dudley felt this was grossly unfair, he wasn't Harry—why were they treating him like this?

It didn't seem to matter at all to Vernon Dursley.

_"Don't! It could be dangerous!" _he barked right into his son's retreating face.

"But Father," Dudley began to whine, and was quickly cut off.

"Don't, _But Father_ me, boy!" Vernon Dursley warningly glared at his son. "_That food is dangerous!_"

"But it looks like—"

"_I don't care what it looks like, damnit! It's their food, and I'll be damned if I'll ever touch it—or let any of my Family touch it! Right Petunia?"_

Petunia Dursley was an absolute physical contrast to her larger husband, with her thin figure and longer than what could be perceived as 'normal' neck, responded to her Husband's statement with an affirming nod of her head while her mouth was hidden behind her slender hand.

"Yes, my dear, that exactly right!" Her husband sneered to her before turning back to his son. When he did, Petunia took advantage of the moment to quickly wipe the crumbs of the small sandwich from her mouth that she recently flinched from the trolley tray and quickly gobbled while he was scolding Dudley just then. Dudley had seen her do it, and was in misery because he couldn't do it because he was too far away from the Trolley.

"_So listen to me Boy, and listen good! Don't you dare accept anything these freaks try offering you, because…because…"_

Vernon Dursley appeared at a loss as to what to say next, since his mind couldn't find any reason to reasonably justify why they shouldn't have any of the food they had been offered. For him, life had been perfect and wonderfully organized along very narrow and strict lines. No disruptions, no headaches, and most of all no weirdoes who stood out where ever they went disrupting everything everywhere they happened to be just by happening to be there...

Just like Harry.

Once, the Dursley's had a pleasant, ordinary, life, by their standards, consisting of pleasant ordinary things until Harry Potter, as an infant, had been left on their doorstep. For the next seventeen years afterward, the Dursley's lived with both resentment of being 'made' to care of the infant and the fear of what he'd eventually become. They knew he was a wizard, they knew that from the letter that had been left with the still sleeping infant as well as the fact Petunia admitted her sister, Harry's Mother, was a witch.

From that moment on, to them, it had became a never-ending series of continual bad luck.

Resentful of being chosen to care for their unwanted nephew, and afraid of what would happen to them if they didn't care for him, were the reasons why they went out of their way to treat Harry with such cruelty as he grew up. It had been their fervent hope that by treating him so miserably they'd be able to crush and squeeze out any hope or ability from him, leaving him empty and without any feeling of self worth. They almost succeeded, but in the end it all came crashing down when upon Harry's eleventh birthday when he discovered what he really was…

From then on, it became a battle of wills. Of trying to keep _what_ Harry was hidden as best they could from all of their relatives and neighbors. Of being afraid of what would happen if everything was found out about Harry. For six years, the stress wore on them, in many different ways, until the start of last summer when all that stress finally boiled over into once massive argument that finally prompted Vernon Dursley to pitch Harry right out of the house with all his things following after. It didn't matter at all to Harry, having had enough of trying to warn them of the dangers of this 'Voldermort', was more than willing to leave them to their fate. Nor did it matter to them, they simply wanted him gone and welcomed the opportunity when it presented itself to do so. And, for the first time in seventeen years, they weren't living under that horrible cloud of fear. They had freed themselves of the commitment.

And if any of his lot didn't like it, that was tough.

They were free from it all, and that was it.

Now the Dursley's were in trouble, very deep trouble. Grunnings entrance into the global market was to have been a very smooth, and very profitable move for both the company and the Dursley's, until a final financial audit turned up the loss of several billions in corporate and investor money due to a very slight but massive blunder in the wording of key portions of the agreement--drawn up by both Vernon and Dudley Dursley.

The Dursley's denounced their critics and accusers, proclaiming their innocence far and wide, and very loudly, and were more than willing to present evidence showing that it was not they who undertook the 'Swindle of the Century', as the affair was being called. But just before they were to give that evidence to the Police, several members from the 'Ministry of Magic' quickly whisked them away from their rented appartment to a 'special location' where they would be 'protected from harm' without even getting their consent in the matter. Now here they were, on the very same train that would Harry take to his 'school', being taken to 'somewhere even safer'…

"_Damn them all!_" Vernon raged with honest anger over the disastrous turn in their lives, "_Now how in hell are we going to get out of this mess!_"

When he remembered all of that, finding a reason became very easy.

"_Because they are the cause of all out problems, Boy. Every bloody one of them now!_ _They've taken away any chance we had of clearing ourselves from this financial mess, and the Police won't believe a word we say now...Don't you understand? Don't you understand?"_

Dudley did, very consideringly in fact. But it was still no reason in his mind to starve them selves to death over it.

The compartment door opened, and the very leader of the kidnappers who brought them to this place, a very serious looking red-headed young man with a thin face wearing dark billowy robes, entered with his wand at the ready-- followed closely by a taller more dusky man dressed the same and equally as serious.

"Is there a problem? I herd yelling." Percy Weasley calmly asked.

Ms. Dursley was the first to respond, a rapid closed mouth shake of her head, while Mr. Dursley replied with a nervous tone and smile, "All's fine, really…Mister…"

"Weasley. Percy Weasley."

Vernon Dursley almost yelled at the sound of that name. He also bore a very strong resemblance to Harry's close friend.

"Is there a problem with the food?" Percy then asked, motioning to the trolley.

"No, no. Nothings wrong." Vernon Dursley smilingly replied, hoping the young man would take a hint and leave them alone. But Percy Weasley eyed the food trolley in an unusual way before casting a suspicious glance back at Vernon Dursley.

"There's still a ways to go before Hogwarts, sir." He said, "The Minister wouldn't want you to suffer any indignities."

"We're fine." Vernon Dursley still smiled. "No worries, no problems."

And that would have been that if Dudley's stomach didn't utter a loud growl at that moment, or Percy not noticing the fine cookie crumbs in Petunia Dursley's lap that she tried hiding. But Vernon Dursley still smiled, clinging to the hope that Percy Weasley and his friend at the door would just go away…

No such luck.

"I don't know what you're thinking or trying to pull." Percy Weasley directly told the Dursley's in a voice that was becoming increasingly harsh. "But I for one do not think that starving yourselves is a very brilliant means of defiance. You're here with us for your protection from those who'd kill you just a soon as look at you!"

Then he moved back, scowling at them all, but not in the direction of the door that the now chastened Vernon Dursley so hoped he'd go back through. Instead, he sat down on the padded bench opposite of the Dursley's while placing his wand back casually on his lap. The second man entered the room fully, standing at the door after closing it behind his back.

"So, please," Percy motioned with polite anger and a free hand towards the trolley, "have something to eat."

Vernon Dursley wanted to cry. He wanted to fight. And most of all he wanted to be far away from where he currently was.

But he really couldn't…

"Well…if you insist." He meekly said, leaning towards the trolley with very hesitant hands.

Dudley's and Petunia's hands weren't so hesitant however.

His name was Nord. He came to check, to be sure.

A not so much a noticeable person, onboard as an Auror, one of the 'brave volunteers' who answered the Ministry's call to protect the Hogwarts Express at all costs from any Dark Lord attacks, and one of those in charge of securing the Baggage Cars from any sabotage. A lowly position on such an important mission, no one suspected him at all.

This further insured the plan's success, because who'd consider an attack like this? All attention was largely focused on the Passenger Cars and Supply, with only a minimal dealt out to the passenger's personal effects. A considerable boon for his Dark Lord, for with this concealed Death Eater's help numerous Dementors were carefully smuggled aboard in disguised steamer trunks and various cases.

In the dim light of the Baggage Car, the properly stacked and secured trunks and cases looked fine from the outside…Except for that third one from the bottom that started rattling.

If there was anyone else with him, they would have become very curious possibly to the point of raising alarm. Nord would have killed him instantly, without question. But in doing so would have put the entire plan at great risk because. It was two hours before twilight, when Dementors work their best. The Master's plan could not foiled by such a rotten stroke luck now, not with all those despised with in The Master's very reach. So with a careful glance at the door, the Death Eater knelt down by the Trunk in question and began whispering a special spell to keep the monstrosities with in pacified within their 'cage'…

Until it was time.

Even after Day told him everything in the sound-proofed privacy of the Executives' Car, Bone was still in disbelief.

Irritated disbelief…

"I cannot believe that you had the nerve to do such things in front all those people! Why couldn't you have used a Memory Charm, or Lethe Command, on that first officer that spotted you?"

Day didn't like having to explain himself, or being ripped into by Bone. Hell, he wasn't there. And despite the best explanations he could come up with, Day knew he wasn't getting anywhere with the Ambassador.

But he wasn't about to give up either.

"The Cop was on a Motorcycle and on us before we could do anything."

"You ran." Bone pointed out.

"It was reflex."

Bone just snorted rudely.

"Besides," Day continued with a desperate shot, "who's going to believe—"

"Considering your method of arrival at Kings Cross, I would say several thousand at the least. And defiantly the whole world by week's end!" Bone flared, cutting Day off. "Your entrance there, as it turned out, was through the newest section of that Station that was in the process of being dedicated. Or, did you bother wondering why there were so many public officials and news reporters there?"

That stung, and for an instant Day considered just telling Bone off and walking away. But that would have gone against a lot of things he personally held, and the possibility of simply being ignored and left along afterwards he figured was nil.

That pause gave him another line of attack.

"Fine, _I screwed up_." He sharply began. "But Harry could have been on board without all that trouble _if_ we knew about when the Train would be leaving, and how it would be defended."

That made Bone glare.

"And," Day continued, "How are we going to keep Harry from being molested at Hogwarts? That I'd like to know."

And Bone became flustered. "The matter of Mister Potter's _reinsertion_ is well taken care of. All you need to do was to protect him, and get him to the Train in a properly deemed manner!"

"Ya, well, Murphy came along and that was the end of that!" Day quickly countered. "All we can do now is move on, and hope that Voldermort can be stopped before _Containment_ is begun."

Bone blinked. His mouth, his whole face, worked to get something out in response. He had played his ace, cutting down the Ambassador's irritation by playing up that possibility. Bone couldn't muster a sound for seconds, while Day simply glared back with a bitter frown.

"So," Day slowly said, "Me and the Crew still protect Harry?"

Bone finally composed himself. "Among other things." He lowly growled. "You may even be allowed to 'Teach' at Hogwarts as well."

Now it was Day's turn to be rendered speechless, if not seriously surprised.

At this, Bone managed to smile--even though he was far from happy with Day at the moment.

"Considering what you've been _teaching_ them, Mister Day, you might actually get…_recruited_." Bone continued in that growling tone. "And your Crew too…Apparently, they've made a favorable impression on several people."

_Me, teach?_

_One of the first things I did when hearing that was to not ask 'how' he herd, because it was simply too obvious. But it would explain why Fred and Barney dropped by the house as often and unannounced as they did._

_Then again, Skywise would have been working his magic up at Hogwarts with the others, Doc and Dolly undoubtedly gave a good account of themselves with the Weasley's and that would have been passed along…_

_But me as a Teacher, that was a twist. _

_Bone must be ready to place Scrimgeour in a Hammerlock and twist his arm at the same time; otherwise why mention it? And he can still call down the Law and nail me good for whatever reasons pleased him at the moment, so I was taking a big risk in fighting back in the face of his anger over 'our arrival' on the Express._

_Bone was a shark, angling for an attack. Where I couldn't exactly see, but I wouldn't be too wrong if it turned out to be me. _

_This required some thinking time, which Bone handed to me when he dismissed me from his presence. _

_In the corridors outside and on the platforms between the cars, those on duty gave me an indifferent look as I passed through as I nodded simply in turn._

_By then, the sun was setting and I was in dire need for a smoke._

The entire day had been a swirl for Hagrid, as he tried making sense of many things being told to him by, and including, Harry Potter seated across from him in the compartment with Ginny Weasley practically stuck to his side. Oh, he had no problem with that. Hagrid knew they were a close couple for some years before, and was right glad they'd finally gotten together. Harry was in dire need for some distraction, something to keep his mind off of what he had to do for a little bit so he wouldn't be all dark and dower…

But after sitting there, listening to their tales of living on the other side of the World, it finally occurred to Hagrid what it was about Harry that had been bothering him so.

"Aey Harry, yer all brownish! Wot happened?"

And come to notice it, Ginny was too.

Harry nearly surrendered to the urge to smile back at that. He could feel his mouth, on its own violation, trying to form such. But with him knowing it now it became instead a jumbled line stretching across his face. Then he felt selfish about preventing it from occurring, and just let it as Ginny replied back.

"Hagrid, haven't you been listening to what Harry and I been explaining to you?"

"Ah…'ell." The half-giant sputtered with surprise. "Yer were just tellin' me about being in…"

He paused, working his mouth to say 'California'—but it came out instead as, "Kal-a-phorn-ya."

"That's right, yes." Harry smiled.

"But wot on Earth were yer doing there? What about yer relatives? Not that they really think much of you, I know. But Dumbledore put yew there fer yer own protection against _Yer Know Who_." Hagrid concernedly countered. "Why in blazes did yew up an go to the other side of the World fer?"

Harry started to speak, but stopped himself when he realized that he never had the chance to explain that he's was tossed out of his relative's home for fighting back against their constant pressure that he leave a little sooner. Uncle Vernon figured that a few weeks didn't really matter a whole lot, and therefore he didn't need to stay a moment longer with them.

At least the Knight Bus was still summonable, that was how he made it to the Weasley's.

"Well," Harry began to explain, "It was like this—"

"And the Wedding" Hagrid's voice rose a little above 'friendly'. "Just where did yer go? Not that I'm mad about it, because of what the Ministry did and all. But a good many of us absolutely scared outta r' wits because we thought that 'Yer Know Who' had somehow snatched yer right out from under us."

"Y-yes Hagrid, I know."

"And then Fletcher bein' found dead in the middle of London like e' was, and yer supporting the Ministry--."

"That—"

"It wasn't Harry, Hagrid." Ginny frowned.

"It…weren't." Hagrid blinked in surprise at being brought up short.

"No, Hagrid, it wasn't me." Harry finally was able to put in. "But I'm certain that I know _who_ it could be."

It was for the longest moment that they stared at each other; it had come to Harry during his imprisonment at the Ministry, now he was trying to summon up the courage to speak the name of the person, the only person he knew capable of doing an impersonation of him, while Hagrid, and Ginny too, waited with a wondering expressions.

Finally with a swallow to sooth his dry mouth, Harry said it; "Tonks."

For a moment, they stared at Harry with shock and disbelief on their faces. Then Hagrid exclaimed; "Just wot in der World is wrong with yer, Harry! Tonks' is a friend; she wouldn't go betrayin' yer for any reason. That's just…rot, _pure rot!_"

"_Then where's Lupin?_" Harry directly asked him. "The last time I saw him, and Tonks, was when they were together at the Wedding. They had gotten themselves married just a short time prior, right?"

Ginny wanted to say something, but withheld it in light that the conversation was now between Harry and Hagrid. But she knew, she remembered how Tonks would entertain her with her metamorphmagus abilities.

So it could be…

"Well, yes they did." Hagrid quickly rose to the defense. "I was the best man for them…"

Then he remembered, and struggled with it for it attacked his current beliefs.

But never the less, it came out. "Besides Bill and Fleur, Umbridge went after…them…And me…"

For a moment, the possibility of betrayal seemed to overwhelm him as he sat quietly on the bench across from theirs. But this was quickly shaken off by reaffirming his earlier beliefs. "Tonks wouldn't betray yer, Harry. She would die first before doin' such!"

This Harry had to calm himself down before continuing. As much as he liked Hagrid, his insistence in the matter was beginning to irritate him to no end. And that's when Ginny spoke up, "_Not if Scrimgeour was holding Lupin_, thus _forcing_ Tonks to impersonate Harry." She began. "He was holding Harry before we rescued him from the Ministry."

"Rescued from the Ministry?" The words dribbled from Hagrid's mouth, mingling with the surprise forming on his face as he turned to gaze at Harry.

"Hagrid," Harry slowly said. "I think you'd better listen to everything we're about to tell you."

The point behind Exploding Snap was for a player to obtain four identically numbered cards while avoiding the charmed cards which, after a very random period of time, would suddenly 'explode' in their hand with a very loud _snap! _Causing a singing pain to the unfortunate players fingers. When that happened, the unfortunate player in question would then forfeit a prescribed number of cards from their holding pile to the other players. This game, as Agent Fredricks so pointed out, drew similarities to the muggle card games of Gin and Go-Fish. Doc and Dolly with Fred and George played the game on a small collapsible table Fredricks had brought along in the compartment next to where Harry, Ginny and Hagrid were.

The Americans were fairing poorly at first against their British hosts, with Doc constantly receiving the worst of it by holding cards no one else had, or wanted at the moment he was willing to give them. A few times he looked ready to loose his temper from the frustration and hurt fingers, but stubbornly hung on while holding his cards with as few fingers as possible. Dolly faired better, using natural wit and charm to clear any charmed cards from her hands before they had the chance to explode. And as the dusk settled, she began claiming victory after victory against the Brothers—though the presence of Agent Barnabus, who was simply standing next to the window watching the sunset, may have had something to do with it.

The darkly silent oriental understandably made the Brother's jumpy. Dolly was slightly nervous, but doing a wonderful job of maintaining control. Only Doc wasn't reacting to the creepy presence, due to his now seriously stinging fingers.

But after a while, George looked up at Agent Fredricks and in an earnest, but quiet, voice asked, "Could your partner stand…like, somewhere else?"

The usually self-confident brothers gazed pleadingly at the surprised Bureau agent, ignoring the equally surprised Doc and Dolly seated just below.

"He's no where near you two. I don't see the point." Fredricks easily shrugged.

"It's his presence." Fred lowly pointed out with uncharacteristic hesitance. "We didn't notice this back in Fresno, but being in close proximity with him _now_ gives us the willies."

"Oh that is just cheap." Dolly remarked in an exasperated way while putting her cards down on the table. "He's just standing there, watching what's racing past outside, not even bothering or pestering you in person."

"So just--" Doc began easily saying, then three of his cards suddenly exploded causing him to jump up from his seat in surprise, nearly upending the table in the process, which was then replaced by the vigorous shaking of his hand accompanied by loud swearing over both his luck and the pain.

And still Barnabus didn't move from the window.

When things had reasonably settled down behind him however, he began to twitch in a nervous way. Fred was the first to see this, and quickly pointed it out to Fredricks while Dolly helped Doc administer a cold pad to his injured hand, and George was left straightening the table and picking up the cards.

Fredricks just froze, gazing at his partner.

"I take it that's nothing good?" Fred whispered to him.

At that moment, Barnabus turned. His usually impassive face unusually taunt, and Fredricks didn't need prompting to explain.

"_Trouble!_" he snapped, digging his Desert Eagle automatic from its shoulder holster.

15


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter Thirty-six

Battle!

"Wot'a disappointment!" A young, hatchet-faced Auror loudly huffed while flopping down on one of several overstuffed couches situated in the special train car that was set aside for the Aurors' use for the trip. "Eight hours of travel, and nothing to show for it than a pair of sore feet!"

"_Ha!_" Loudly snorted an older, heavier Auror from the other side of the car where several platters of sandwiches, cakes, and drinks were set upon a wide side sideboard being attacked by several hungry Aurors.

The young Auror glanced wickedly in his compatriot's direction. "Yew mockin' me, Lew?"

"_Right yes I am mockin' you, Trev!_" The older Auror retorted, pointing his large Ham sandwich at his younger counterpart. "Wot were you hopin' for, the Dark Lord em's elf leading an attack once we were outta London?"

The other Aurors present, a good Twenty-five in number doing a variety of things in the lounge, from reading, to eating, to napping, reacted with a mixture of laughter and guffaws ranging in volume from slight to loud. Their younger associate's displeasure at the lack of any action was turning into a source of relief from all the constant pressure they were under on this assignment, granting them the chance to relax.

"Listen, Lad," Lew now gently addressed his younger associate, "tis' better that nothing does occur, than for it to happen. And never think of having nothing to do here as time being wasted, because presence alone can be a deterrent."

"Just wot sort of reasoning is that?" Trev asked, looking wonderingly looked at Lew.

"_Experience_." answered the older Auror simply. "It's why I'm not wailing like you are."

Now the laughter from the others was more solid and louder, if not coming more freely. Several of Lew's fellows roundly patted him on the back in a congratulatory manner, while Trev sat red-faced on the couch. Eventually he shook off the shame by seeing the wisdom in Lew's words, and joined in the revelry reassured by the others that it was alright…

And that's when the Dementors struck in a furious mass, splintering the forward door in the mad rush to feast upon the delightfulness within the room. Aurors, caught utterly unaware by the rapidness of the assault, fell quickly as their fellows at the other end of the car attempted to make a stand and sound the alarm.

But the rush was too large and too fast for them to handle or raise warning. In mere seconds, the entire car was filled with Dementors and their victims. And still the dark mass wanted more, there was just no end to their appetite…

Especially when there were happier thoughts to devour so close at hand.

_Just my luck, the best place for a smoke would be sitting on top of one of the Train cars._

_Not that I wouldn't be allowed up there. The Auror was nice and friendly with the suggestion, but also warned me about the numerous tunnels we've yet to pass through before reaching Hogsmead. They allowed just scant inches of clearance all around the train, not enough for a sit down—or a lie down._

_But he was firm on the fact that I couldn't smoke in the passenger way. It was an old established rule meant to make the trip a pleasant one for the students, not one where they spent the entire time coughing and weeping from the smoke._

_"All of the Special Carrages are reserved for that…pleasure, Sir." He very politely explained._

_Of course, the one place I least wanted to be._

_"Is it alright to chew gum?" I hopefully asked while putting my cigarettes away._

_I wasn't trying to be a wiseass. I was still smarting from Bone's thrashing, and slightly more from being denied a simple relaxing pleasure._

_The Auror responded with an arched eyebrow, and a very critical frown._

_And that's when the car door burst open with Barnabus in a really high state of agitation. He just flat rushed passed and into the next car without a hello or acknowledgement, followed closely by Fredricks in the same state with gun in hand and finally Dennis in no different state—but with his walking stick held very tightly._

_"WE GOT BIG TROUBLE!!" Dennis managed to yell as he went past._

_Suddenly with new things to occupy me, I joined the parade as it rushed to the front._

The moment the banging occurred on the wall of their compartment, Harry knew something was up.

A moment later he started feeling cold, desperately cold…

As if all he ever cared for was being leeched from his body. And Hagrid began getting agitated sitting across from him.

"No…here?" He gasped with eyes darting towards the window and an increasing grip on his umbrella. "_Not…_"

That's when the Dementor started pounding on the window, trying to get at them.

Hagrid reared himself up, raising his umbrella towards the glass while bellowing a war-cry that nearly drowned out the sound of automatics chattering in both the outside corridor and compartment next to them.

Then there was an explosion of golden light, and the Dementor outside was gone with a hideous wail. Hagrid stood there wondering what just happened to the Dementor when Dolly burst into the compartment, a pistol in one hand and a lever-action rifle in the other.

"_Off your asses! We're under attack!_" she yelled.

Harry just moved, even with Ginny latching onto his right arm he slipped past Hagrid and Dolly and through the door. Doc and Fred were in the corridor; the American had a large back-pack on and was facing ahead with two identical assault-weapons aimed at the far door while Fred was slipping the strap of a submachine gun over his head with one hand that was loaded with a silver magazine. His wand being in his other.

"George is handing them out!" He yelled at Harry and his sister. "_Hurry up!_"

George was taking weapons out of a large guitar case and quickly setting them upright on the bench seat, when Harry and Ginny entered the compartment—skirting past knocked over chairs and slipping on numerous playing cards scattered across the floor.

There were more weapons than either he or Ginny could carry at once between them. Far more than necessary, Harry thought, each loaded with silver magazines ready to be used at once—but kept the thought to himself. Ginny grabbed at two combat-belts with pistols already holstered in them and wore them at her waist in a haphazardous fashion, before taking a compact assault rifle while Harry went with what he liked the best; the Calico M-950.

"Just that one?" George looked at him incrredulity.

Harry paused and frowned back, "I only have two hands!"

George started to say something back that would have started a fight between them when Fred's yell outside made them turn.

"_Expecto Patronuns!" _Fred yelled, aiming his wand towards the car's rear door.

But try as he may, no Patronuns emerged to do battle with the Dementor charging him. Ginny, raced for the door with her own wand at the ready. Doc, who was just a head of Fred, spun quickly around with his right hand outstretched but dropping the Styer-AUG carbine he was holding while doing so. From that hand, launched something darkly sinister with wings that to Harry as it struck out appeared to be carrying a small sword. And moments later, Harry herd a horrifyingly blood curdling scream that literally shook him to his core…

Including Fred, who was quite impressed by it.

"Thank you." He gasped out to Doc.

"You're welcome." Doc drawled.

The Dementor Swarm quickly took over two additional cars in rapid succession and started appearing along the outside of the Train before any warning, namely that incurred by Agent Barnabus, was finally taken seriously. Even before then, the creeping chill associated with Dementors was simply passed off as a night chill caused by "a window open somewhere', by those in the luxury car.

Two things quickly changed their minds, the first being Barnabus, followed by Fredricks, Archer, Day, and two Aurors with weapons and wands drawn from one end of the luxury car, the second was a Hit Wizard you yelled, " Dementors!" after pushing the tumbling Dursley's into the car through the other door.

Caught between these extremes, many high-ranking wizards were frozen in place by surprise. Even the sudden powerful chill ripping through the car did noting to shake them from their immovable stance…

But when a Dementor raced through the open doorway, followed by three more, the shock gave way to immediate fear for most. They either tried running for the far door, jamming it with their bodies, or cowering where they were—even as their fellows mounted their defense as Barnabus unleashed his spectral Grand Eastern Dragon upon the attackers. The first Dementors falling to the Dragon's claws streaked hideously as it was pulled apart, while the others battling the Patronuns hurtled at them were hacked to death by Archer's glowing sword cane or shot by Day and Fredricks, both of which caused them to scream hideously before exploding in a loud brilliant flash.

But for those quickly dispatched, many more rushed into the car through the door and started through the windows from outside. Until a variety of hammering sounds from outside caused them to explode in an agitated mass…

Dancing Queen had her orders.

The Protective barrier surrounding the train made it exceedingly difficult to maneuver, but the sliverish-green 1971 454 Corvette Stingray sports car that had been resting comfortably in its toy carrier until Dolly hurriedly brought it out with the command; "_Defend the Train!_", as she pitched it out the window before a Dementor tried grabbing her arm. Dancing Queen grew to its original size before it would have hit the ground, sprouting swept back wings from its sleek body and roared to its mistress' defense—by bisecting the attacking Dementor with a deft slice of her left wing. From there, the enchanted sports car ripped through the gathering swarm of Dementors in the same rapid manner slicing many in half innumerous run through around the Train. But when they came pouring out of the Baggage cars seemingly by the hundreds, the Corvette switched to embedded cannons and shrank itself to half it's original size to maneuver better with in the barrier --slaying many more of the monsters as it quickly bounded from one side of the Train to the other and back again.

But still, the Dementors came in mass…

Those on the Train had managed to get an alert out.

Hogsmead, the final destination of the Hogwarts Express, was packed with many additional Aurors and Hit Wizards standing ready for the train's arrival as well as in the event of anything seriously occurring while the Train was in transit. When the call for help came, the Ministry Official placed in charge of the area attempted to send more than half of those there to the Train by Apparition.

When he was told that wasn't possible, due to the made defenses around the Train, the Official, well known for being polite to the point of meekness, flew into a wild fury of rage and profanity few had ever witnessed.

"_JUST HOW ARE_ _WE TO HELP THEM WHEN WE CANNOT EVEN APPROACH THEM!!" _raged the Official to his subordinates.

That very thought, though not as loud, went through Mr. Weasley's mind as he, Moody, and Sky raced towards the Express in Sky's somewhat agreeable LTD Station Wagon. The display of the Train's Magical shield defense was up on the inside of the windshield, constantly turning to show every aspect of the shield that would thwart any attempt at quickly reaching the Train. It even showed Dancing Queen as a small figure moving across the top of the train, from one side to the other.

That made Sky smile, _Good Girl…_

Then he addressed Mooney and Mr. Weasley on the diagram, "They made an overlay enchantment upon every part." Sky reasoned while keeping Antichrist steady. "And upon that, they added the special defenses."

"Seizure and Binding Defensive Wards." Moody nodded in agreement, as his magic eye swiveled towards the battle. "I can just barely make out the signature of who placed it."

"And then what?" Mr. Weasley wondered aloud from the back seat.

"Then, Arthur, we can actually do something helpful, instead of standing out here watching!" Moody frustratedly remarked back over his shoulder. "Those fools at the Ministry have turned that Train into a deathtrap for all onboard! And I wouldn't be surprised if those who could unlock it were among the first to fall!"

"Unless we can figure out how to crack it." Sky put in.

"Yes, true." Mooney growled. "But from the looks of it, if that were to happen, it wouldn't be surprising that once the defensive charms were forced away a disastrous back-lash would occur!"

Actually, Moody wasn't too wrong with portions of his belief. Scrimgeour knew how to unlock the field, and created it in such a way that if it were forced aside those attacking would be immobilized in the resulting unleashing of power. But he, like those suddenly finding themselves in the unrelenting storm of Dementors, were too busy fighting them off to even think of deactivating the Magical Shield. But then, by his reasoning, it would be foolish to even think about doing such. The Dementors could very well be the Dark Lord's first line of attack, and dropping the Shield would easily allow a second, easily devastating wave to hit them. Let them try forcing the Shield when they believed triumph was at hand, the surprise would be tremendous…

Besides, Scrimgeour figured, with the other representatives now aiding in the fight, the battle would be ending in their favor.

Crouched down amid broken glass and smoldering wood in the compartment, Scrimgeour dared a peek down the corridor…

Smoke was billowing out from the car ahead, a thin grayish mass twisting over fallen defenders, broken glass, and dropped wands, that carried the smell of burning wood and leather up and down the corridor. Along with it came clear sounds of battle down forward; shouts, loud crashes, the crackle of spells fired mingling with the rapid _pop-pop-pop_ discharge of firearms. But when Scrimgeour paused to consider things, the sounds of battle were coming from all around him—from both ends of the Train.

That was bad.

However, if there was one thing he'd never do, was go out as a coward would. If the Dark Lord wanted a fight, Scrimgeour swore he'd give him one. So he pulled himself up, and rushed forward with wand ready.

The going was slow, very slow.

They did everything as learned from the Danger Room simulations they practiced for weeks on end, especially when it came to moving from Car to Car. The open space between left them all vulnerable to attack, as the bodies of several Aurors gave testament to. No Dementors came for them though, either they moved too quickly or the creations never bothered coming round for a second look—especially with plentiful victims all around, Harry figured.

This had already been born out in the first two cars they entered, compartment after compartment of students and Aurors who's sprawled forms and vacant stares gave horrible testimony to the power of the dreaded Dementor's Kiss—that drained the victims of all memory and ability, leaving behind still living mindless husks that for all appearances might as well be considered dead. And it was easy to see how it happened, each of the windows of those compartments were unlatched and thrown open. Unlocked probibly by the passengers wanting a little air to enter the compartments…

Harry entertained the grisly scene for a barest of moments, figuring out what occurred before dashing onward. He was _point_ for the group, leading it from carriage car to carriage car in the journey forward, and needed to concentrate on what he was doing. Behind him was Fred, cradling both his wand and the silver clipped MP-5 with the same hand, sometimes holding his wand with his free hand to cover Harry's advance into a new Car. Then Doc, Dolly, a concerned but cooperating Hagrid with his pink umbrella, and finally Ginny and George. While having Tamm along would have been preferred, it was reasoned quickly that her formable weaponry would be better served protecting their rear. Besides, Harry wasn't altogether sure that in her small size the Grand Am would have the same effect as if the Car was full sized. And the winds generated by the Train's increasing speed would be that much worse for her to deal with, magical or not. And Harry didn't want to explain to Day how his car got destroyed.

But Dancing Queen, as Dolly explained, was better built for flight and doing very well outside battling Dementors. Occasionally something sliverish would race by the windows too quickly to be seen. But its effects upon the Dementors outside were highly noticeable from the ghastly wailings and explosions of light that occurred beyond the windows.

The next two cars they entered all was reasonably well; the Aurors there had organized themselves into a suitable defensive force ready enough to deal with the threat occurring. Harry's appearance startled them though, with one pointing while loudly exclaiming, "_I thought E' was up front with the others!_" They tried stopping the group, namely Harry, from heading forward, due to concerns for their safety. But when Hagrid was seen, this attempt became an outright act as they tried to subdue the 'deranged half-giant' from harming them.

Harry had other ideals about that, and promptly displayed them by spraying the floor before the Aurors feet with gunfire. The sliver bullets chewed sizeable holes through the wooden flooring, revealing the track surface they were racing over.

"_If any of you even touch Hagrid, that's what will happen to you!_" Harry then yelled, not really caring what the Aurors thought while bringing the Calico up in a menacing manner. "_He's on our side! I don't know about any of you!_"

As far as Harry was concerned, the Ministry was another evil force he had to contend with. And he wasn't above using the Calico on its members.

"So, my advice to all of you", Fred then began, pointing his MP-5 at the Aurors as well "would be to get out of our way, or protect this portion of this Train. What these Muggle weapons lack in elegance is made up with brute force!"

When the others brandished their weapons, was enough to force the Aurors into let them go without attempting to stop them. They raced through one more car with its bewildered company of Aurors and students. But in the following car, Dementors had entered from the outside through an opened window in one of the center passenger compartments and were coming through the open door of that compartment, overwhelming both guards and passengers there in a dark furious cloud when the group entered.

Harry slid instantly left to the outer wall of the passageway, firing the Calico from the hip as Fred came up from behind firing his MP-5 with one hand while holding his wand in the other shouting; "_Expecto Patronuns!_ "

Dementors either convulsed in screaming agony before exploding from the Slivered bullets, or were brutally attacked by a large Bear patronus that Fred created chasing them back into the compartment where they howled with a chilling fury. Once they were trapped within the compartment, both Harry and Fred moved up to the shattered door with Ginny and Doc coming up from behind stepping over the bodies of the fallen—watched by numerous frightened faces peering at them from the protection of closed doors and unbroken glass.

"On three?" Harry asked.

Fred was about to answer when the Dementors regrouped exploding suddenly from the compartment, and nearly overwhelming them all by sheer force. There was no time for Magic, just instant action. They all fired into the seething mass of despair, sending hideously shrieking portions of it careening everywhere before erupting in brilliant explosions of light. And still they came pouring out of the compartment in an unstoppable torrent.

Doc dropped his Styer-AUG's and once again launched his Dark Angel. This time Harry could see it clearly as it dove right into the mass, it was a wrathful ebony form enrobed in a long loose fitting gown swinging both a long Broadsword and Great Shield right into the heart of the dark mass. As it battered away at the monstrosities, Doc himself appeared to take injuries on his face and body up till George's arrival. Then together with Fred, George sealed off the compartment with a Blocking Barrier as Doc pulled the Dark Angel away from the dark mass looking very much worse for wear.

Even with help from Dolly and Hagrid he was slow to rise, but continually insisted that he was alright. He was able enough to treat any injured students and guards in the following three cars, but by the fourth car, the toll of using that patronus was making Doc stagger badly from fatigue.

In the next car, they came upon members of Dumbledore's Army who were battling off attacking Dementors very handily.

Seamus and Dean were back to back in the corridor, standing up against the onslaught, while Neville and Lee were providing harassing attacks on the Dementors flank from different compartments. By opening the doors to the compartment they were in at odd times, attacking with their Patronuns', and then closing the doors before the Dementors could rally against them frustrated the creatures to no end. Some would howl and angrily scratch at the door glass, and while doing so suffer another surprise attack either from the Patil Sisters or the Creevey Brothers who'd suddenly attack from either end of the car. Because of this, the Dementors were utterly confused at to where to attack by the time Harry and the others arrived.

Fred and George decided to hang convention and simply opened fire upon the mass without warning or whatever to their friends, causing the whole corridor to quickly be filled with high-pitched screams before bright explosions had them all blinking the bright spots away.

"_You bloody bastards!_" Seamus yelled while rubbing his eyes. "Next time give a warning, will ya!"

"There wasn't enough time!" George countered.

"And there were too many of them moving too fast." Fred added while approaching Seamus blinking. "But otherwise, how are you both?"

"Bloody blind, thanks to you!" Seamus snapped back while trying to see.

"Well, I fared a little better." Lee replied. "But I fear my hearing has been damaged by your yelling, Seamus."

"Well mine happens to be excellent, _Mr. Finniigan!_" Hagrid roared from the back door, "And you need more restraint with that mouth of yer's, or yer be costin' your House points before the Term starts!"

He was half carrying, half dragging Doc into the car, with a very frantic Dolly ever close by. But even with frightened students gazing at Harry from behind closed doors, Hagrid's bellow did more to open those doors. And when those doors were open, Harry found himself suddenly recognized by everyone.

The Creevey's were the first to reach him. Short in stature and tired from fighting, still they welcomed his arrival with plenty of unchecked enthusiasm—as did many of the older students who knew him. The youngest ones just stated up at him in awe, which made him quite self-conscience of the fact he was standing there with a firearm and not a wand.

That feeling was short lived, again due to Hagrid.

"_Harry!_" he bellowed. "Get as many advanced students on your side as yer can, and send the rest back inter compartments for their own sake!"

He was kneeling next to Doc, who was seated on the floor back against the outside wall of a compartment. The physician was breathing deeply into some kind of disk as his wife concernedly watched.

Harry snapped his attention away, then loudly and quickly addressing those around him. "Alright, we're under Dementor attack. If there are any members of Dumbledore's Army, or any Students sufficiently advanced in Defensive Magic, you are welcome to join me in the defense of the Hogwarts Express. Otherwise, all of the less experienced students, please carefully but quickly proceed to the rear of the Train where's there's Aurors still able to protect you!"

That last part came out badly. Harry didn't want to be mean towards those who wanted to at least try helping out, but even to him what he just said sounded just like that.

But it wasn't an irresponsible decision for him to make under the circumstances, he realized. The inexperienced ones would be able to learn or handle those spells needed in such a short time, and letting them handle a firearm would be even more disastrous. No, he was right to say what he said…

And the reaction to what he said proved it. Quickly, the congestion in the corridor thinned out as several students started heading towards the rear of the car and out through the door there, leaving fifteen able bodied students, half of whom he personally knew and the rest he was quickly introduced to by Neville—who simply handled names, and nothing more. There just wasn't enough time for anything complex at the moment.

But there were some things, in spite being as well prepared for as he was, that simply surprised Harry into stunned silence…

Such as Dean pointing at the Calico in his hands, asking, "Hey Harry, where you get that gun from?"

"It's a loner." Doc breathed while slowly stepping by. "Now, did someone yell about their eyesight and hearing?"

Now the American was alive and active. Especially active, with Dolly anxiously trailing behind. Harry didn't even know what to think of the transformation.

Nor did Hagrid.

"Aey', yer sure yer well enough?" he worriedly asked.

"The Meth's dosages are calculated out to be helpful, not embinding." Doc replied gazing around. "Was there someone injured around here?"

Seamus quickly blinked, "The spots r' gone now."

Doc simply looked at him.

Then Fred waiting all this time at the far end of the car for all of them to get them selves organized, exasperatedly remarked to all of them, "If all are well and fine, can we get moving now?"

13


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter Thirty-seven

Chapter Thirty-seven

Angels, Dragons and Dark Knights.

_My cell phone rings…_

_I'm right in the middle of this nightmarish swarm, and my damned cell phone rings. Of all the…_

_Right now there are seven of us knee-deep in trouble, condensed into a clump standing back to back shooting and conjuring at these things while they pick away at us with boney hands and their chilling breath. If I go for the phone, our defense fails and we're their lunch. Of course, the Dementor's won't bother Barnabus. Even as his Dragon tears them to pieces, they'd rather play with us in mass than deal with him. But then, should he really unleash that Dragon there's a good chance he'll nail a few of us in the attack._

_Dirty, really dirty._

_Worse, all of us are tiring; Archer's reduced to cuts and jabs with his sword and my Browning's are becoming too hot to handle in either hand. I don't know about Fredricks, his Desert Eagle's boomings are constant but his iron gotta be hotter than mine are at the moment. _

_And the swarm keeps closing in. It's only a matter of time—_

_Ah! Why didn't I think of THAT sooner!_

_"Everybody, hold hands!" I yell._

_To which came a confused reply of, "What?!"_

_"Hold Hands!" I shouted back. "We're getting out of here!"_

_You would figure that in the face of what we were facing there would be a unanimous contentious of agreement to leave, but…_

_"No!" shouts a dissenter. "If we leave, we'll loose the advantage of our position! Stand fast, lads, we shall prevail!"_

_There's always a delusional idiot in every bunch. This one happens to be tall, bug-eyed old wizard with a pointed beard that hits me at the shoulder, I'm not about to speculate weather or not he has a brain in his head or trying to gain a posthumous shot at glory. Magic has its limits. And all of us are reaching ours._

_This makes Time-Stop more difficult to perform due to the amount of physical strength required to perform it. Uppers and Boosts would help, but I don't have any on me at the moment and Doc's no where to be found._

_Aw, screw it…_

_I grabbed the first person I could, a Hit Wizard by the decorations on his lapel, weather he liked it or not…_

_And drop outta time._

_Walking through molasses is the best way to describe it, your movements are painfully slow as the world around you is completely frozen in place. It frustrating not being able to move faster, but as Sky, who was kind enough to teach me the trick, told me, it takes plenty of patience to master._

_Unfortunately, patience was never a part of my character. Persistence was more my speed, it's a great motivator. At least the gent I'm towing isn't the loon who wants to stay fighting. (How I'm going to deal with him, I don't know.) He's too surprised and disorientated by the sudden change to his environment. Ducking under the mass of deathly black, we make for the car's doorway where I hope to leave him. Hopefully, his senses will return and start attacking from this end. That should set up a diversion giving the rest a better chance at surviving, and me in getting them out of there._

_But lo and behold, Minister Scrimgeour himself is just so happening to be blocking that entire doorway by standing in the middle of it._

_Well of course he would, he's a bureaucrat—all high minded, self-centered and appointed by God himself to rule over the very people who only elected them to remove them from their communities for lengthy periods of time. Especially since he's attacking the mass from there, which keeps them driving right at the rest of us..._

_Well, what the hell do you expect from a Bureaucrat? Intelligence?_

_The Hit Wizard has returned to some sensibility by the time I get him to the door, he nods when I tell him to wait…_

_Then I let go of him._

From the doorway of the carriage, Scrimgeour, alone was keeping the Dementor horde at bay preventing their further advancement through the train. Over the noise behind him, he could hear Bone's commanding voice over the rushing wind and the sounds of several coming up from behind to join him. There were also snippets of talk the filtered to him through the lulls in the noise concerning the whereabouts of Harry Potter, and the increasing speed of the train—possibly the engineers were taken by the Dementors.

If that was true, they were in grave trouble. With control of the Engine gone, they would be hurtling down the track with increasing speed. Charms would keep and protect the train while on the track, and the Protective Barrier would prevent any direct attacks upon the Express from occurring…

But dealing with the Dead-end Barriers at the track's end, which had never been brought up in planning. In fact, such an incident he was facing now was declared as being _impossible _by Oswald Norbert, Head of the Ministry's Magical Security Department—whose sprawled body Scrimgeour had to step over in the previous car. He had no ideal on how fast the train could go, but could imagine what would occur if it was abruptly stopped by the Barrier. It would place both him and the Ministry in grave trouble in the eyes of the World, destroying everything he'd managed to create just like it would the Train.

_But if they managed to stop that from happening, _that hope alone kept Scrimgeour going. He wasn't going down without a fight, a creed he personally adopted from the older Aurors he knew from the days amongst their number. To break and run would be disgraceful, and for the Minister of Magic to be doing that…

Scrimgeour pushed that thought aside. No, he was going to stay and fight for all it was worth. Until the sudden appearance of a Hit Wizard just on the outside of the doorway altered that line of thought.

"_From what part of the Train did you aspirate from!?"_ Scrimgeour quickly demanded after recovering from the surprise.

"_From there!"_ The Hit Wizard quickly answered, and pointed towards the swirling mass of Dementors. _"And I didn't aspirate!"_

That brought Scrimgeour up short. _"Well, how in the hell did you get out of there!" _he demanded.

Then a second, towering wizard with a long pointed beard appeared, startling them both—especially by shouting agitatedly back at the mass; _"You coward! Stop thinking about the rest of us and 'elp fight 'em off!!"_

Scrimgeour came to his senses quickly enough to demand an answer from the new arrival.

"_E's some lad, Minister'"_ the tall wizard yelled over the noise around them. _"Gots' some power that makes everything slows down! But E's not using it on them!" _

It only confounded Scrimgeour for a moment, until he realized what the Wizard was telling him; whoever it was slowing down time. Exactly how, was one of the questions he wanted to ask.

Percy Weasley appeared soon after, confused and confounded as the others before him as the Dementor mass before them became very agitated swirling faster and faster with shrieks and explosions becoming more and more prevalent and violent. Then finally Archer and Fredricks appeared, carrying between them a much worn out stranger Scrimgeour didn't recognize—but the older wizard did…

"_Coward!"_ he venomously spat. _"You should have fought them with that power!!"_

The Americans simply replied with angry looks at that Wizard, and the tired one mumbled something that sounded rude as they helped him out of the carriage. Scrimgeour reminded himself to speak to that wizard about his lack of manners, when the mass of Dementor's suddenly took flight forward abandoning their position in a fearfully howling mass. This was highly unusual, since they would never abandon a fight as their drives and pursuits would never let them relent until satisfied. But they were doing just did that, leaving in their place a lone, dark haired and attired man standing readily with his back to them. The very one who had just minutes before rushed through the Train to give warning and attack the Dementors just as they entered the Saloon Car.

They stood there in the doorway in awe of who ever it was, even as a chirping sound occurring behind them caught their attention.

_Damn it all, Boy—Answer! _ Sky was angry and worried at the same time, gripping his cell phone while at the same time keeping Antichrist under control. He waited with Moody and Mr. Weasley for any word on how things were going in the Train.

Dolly was easy enough to reach. Things had gotten so bad on board that Doc over-extended himself. _Boosting_ kept him on his feet. Sky's mood soured at that, but brightened a little at the mention of finding other highly capable Hogwarts Students to help in the defense.

"_Apparently, Harry knows them all_." Dolly reported.

"Dumbledore's Army." Moody proudly explained. "Harry _taught_ them all."

But getting in contact with Day was a frustrating matter. His phone would just ring and ring and ring without answering. And Day wasn't the kind to allow that to occur, whatever the reason.

"Could he have fallen?" Mr. Weasley wondered from the backseat.

That made Sky pause.

Then he franticly tapped on the phones keys, and glanced at the screen. No, Day was fine—very weak, but fine. _He over-extended himself too, damn! _Sky bitterly frowned. With Doc, the matter was simple because he was so dedicated to his work. Day on the other hand was reckless. And being where he was, that was simply suicidal.

"He's down, we can't get a hold of him—_wait!" _Sky began, then the readings changed. "Someone's got his phone!"

Moments later, came a brisk deep voiced answer._ "Yes?"_

None in Antichrist were game to being polite at the moment, especially Sky.

"Where's Day?" He demanded.

"_Strung out on the floor." _Whoever answered. _"We got him propped up—"_

"Send a message to Minister Scrimgeour!" Moody leaned over and bellowed into the phone. "The Express is twenty miles from Hogsmead, and rapidly approaching. We can't get close enough to see into the Engine because of the Dementor Swarm there."

"_I see." _the voice commandingly responded.

"And we can't help with that barrier surrounding the Train!" Mr. Weasley nearly shrieked. "We need it removed so we can!"

"_Understood. Please keep this channel open."_

Bone held the phone carefully with his good hand. Archer and Fredricks, not looking too goon themselves, had the Day seated on the floor propped up against the wall for support, it helped him breathe a little easier. Bone wanted to ask if he'd seen the Minister, but Day was simply too out of it sitting there. According to Archer, he'd stressed himself out while getting them away from the Dementors.

"He and several others went forward, Sir." Archer added. "I don't know how far ahead they are now."

"Barnabus is with them." Fredricks stepped in. "So they have something of a chance."

Bone remembered the silent Oriental Agent, there was something incredibly odd about him that sent unnatural chills down his spine. But if he was Bureau, then Bone knew he had no reasonable fear to hold against him. Still he made a mental note to inquire and started forward when someone shouted _"It's Potter!"_

He stopped and turned.

Amid started looks and surprised glances, Harry Potter entered the car in a fatigued hop with clothes singed and torn and a futuristic looking gun at the ready as did some who briskly followed him in. It was not so much the entrance he made, or the fact he was armed with something Day gave him, but a secondary reaction…

That suddenly came from the Dursley's

"_YOU ROTTEN BASTARD, POTTER!!" _shrieked Vernon Dursley from his hiding place on the floor. _"I SHOULD'VE YOU SENT TO THE ORPHANAGE!!"_

He raised himself off the floor with such speed that several in the carriage were simply amazed that such a large person could move that quickly off the floor, but just the same moved in to protect Harry when it appeared he was going to be run down by his Uncle.

"_I SHOULD HAVE DUMPED YOU IN SOME DECREPENT NEIBORHOOD, OR BETTER STILL I SHOULH'VE STRANGLED YOU RIGHT OFF THEN TOSS YOU IN THE TRASH—IT WOULD HAVE SAVED MY POOR FAMILY FROM ALL OF THE MISERY WE'VE GONE THROUGH BECAUSE OF YOU!!" _Uncle Vernon raged on, totally ignoring his surroundings while spraying Harry with his hot breath and spittle _"ALL YOU HAVE EVER BEEN IS TROUBLE! AND NOW BECAUSE OF YOU, WE'RE…UTTERLY RUINED!!" _

Harry just started in disbelief, surprised that his relatives were even on board the Train. It simply rooted him where he was standing.

And wasn't the only one.

"How did they get on board?" George Weasley exclaimed in astonishment.

"Is this some kind of a sick joke?" Fred Weasley wondered aloud with oblivious distaste.

Vernon Dursley reared himself up with a massive intake of air into his lungs, with a face deeply red from yelling, and ready to yell some more at those now around him, he stopped with a expression of horror on his face when he noticed was some of them were carrying. Especially Harry…

Then Hagrid squeezed in, looked, and loudly exclaimed in complete surprise, _"Blimey!"_

With mouth hanging open, Uncle Vernon appeared to be gagging at the sight of the Half-Giant. But only on his words. When he saw Hagrid again, he felt it best not to mention the guns and how those with them would be treated under the laws of the land—which would easily deal with him in the same manner—and decided it would be best to sit right back down with his wife and son.

"What's going on?" Neville asked, quite startled as well by the display.

Before Bone could step in, Fred managed to explain with revulsion, "Harry's Muggle relatives are here—you've herd about them, _right?_"

"Wot they doin' 'ere?" Hagrid exclaimed, as it was the very last place they would ever be.

"But outside of that, we're currently on an out-of-control train that will soon crash when we reach Hogsmead" Bone stepped in, looking and sounding very urgent in his manner and voice. "So, can we at least organize ourselves into something that'll prevent that from happening?"

That was a good ideal…

But as with such things, unfortunately, several stumbling blocks manage to appear along the way.

First was Cornelius Fudge, who had been huddled in the far corner of the car trembling while mopping his brow, suddenly found some sort of courage that enabled him to march right up loudly insisting to Bone; "Sir, you have no jurisdiction to take action! This is England, not America, and I assure you that the Ministry has everything well in hand—_so do not interfere!_"

Dolores Umbridge, dressed in her best sickening pink ensemble, stood up behind Fudge adding to the boisterous show of authority. But when Bone turned on Fudge with such a harsh look, all of Fudge's courage quickly drained away.

"Well…we are willing… in this case… to accept help..." Fudge meekly retreated, fumbling with his Bowler while Umbridge just angrily glared at the Ambassador.

Bone simply smiled, "Thank you." Ignored Umbridge and turned to more pressing matters, such as formulating a plan to deal with the current situation. Harry and the Weasley's were already doing that with their friends, but by traversing along the outside of the Train to reach the Engine --which wasn't met with much positive enthusiasm at all by their friends.

"Look." He exasperatedly explained, "Would you prefer battling our way _through_ the Dementors?"

"As I recall, Mate, you had troubles running along Train's." George worriedly responded.

"Yes, but he finally managed to over come that problem." Ginny countered.

"_Ha!"_ Vernon Dursley suddenly piped up "What's a matter? 'Fraid you'd fall off?"

In an instant, Harry turned and glared right back at his Uncle with murderous intent. Normally, Vernon Dursley wouldn't have even considered the move by Harry to be at all threatening, because the boy was bound by laws not to use Magic until he had come of age—so said the letters of warning that instantly arrived afterward. But Harry's hand slipped down to the Calico slung easily off his right shoulder. He was hardly aware of it himself, until Ginny blocked his hand.

That startled him. Saying nothing, he looked at Ginny in surprise as she gently told him, "It wouldn't be worth it."

Uncle Vernon, now feeling braver than he ever did in his life, rose to mock Harry again. Seventeen years of bottled up aggravation wanted to come out, and by jove Uncle Vernon wasn't going to hold back—especially in front of Harry's friends, which would have been a very delightful dose of payback to heap on Harry. But he only got as far as opening his mouth before Bone glared down at him and loudly commanded; "Sir _BE QUIET!!_"

And Uncle Vernon backed quickly down after that.

"May I add something?" Day weakly responded, from where Doc and Dolly were treating him.

Looking a little better than a few minutes before, but still plenty worse for wear, Day, with some help from Doc and Fredricks, managed to turn himself enough to face the students-- Harry in particular. "We've seemed to have forgotten about the Barrier that surrounds this train." He hoarsely began. "It's only projected three feet from the train's surface. That's not a whole lot of space to be moving around in, especially quickly."

Harry inwardly winced. He'd forgotten that important fact. What made it even worse was that it happened right in front of the Dursley's.

He also noted Umbridge, looking quite intently at Bone's back while holding her wand.

"To run _across_ the Train, "Day continued, "You'll need to shut that field down."

Fudge, who had been keeping fearfully quiet since Bone's glare, erupted again; "That Barrier is our shield against any further attacks! _We dare not lower it!_"

"Haven't you been noticing, Sir, that those very creatures attacking us have been coming _from with in this very Train?_" Bone growled back on him. "And that very Barrier is also preventing help from reaching us?"

Umbridge paused in her stalking, but still glaring murderously at Bone's back—as were a few others, but not as intently as she was. Harry wanted to yell, but she wasn't doing anything untoward and it would easily dismiss it leading to another round of humiliation heaped onto him in front of the Dursley's.

"That wreck wouldn't notice his bum if you pointed it out to him, Gov'." Fred remarked.

Bone snapped an angry glare towards Fred. He was becoming clearly impatient with both the lack of action and the constant interruptions to actions…

"Fred." Hagrid started to speak.

That's when Umbridge quickly raised her wand to Bone's back. Harry started to shout out a warning, but a pistol shot and sharp shriek from Umbridge, now cradling her injured right hand cut him off.

Archer, Fredricks and Doc were poised with their weapons, aimed in the direction of Umbridge, and several other disagreeable wizards. Fred and George quickly followed suit, before it even registered with Harry to do the same.

"Next one goes through your head." Dolly calmly warned Umbridge while motioning with her Peacemaker while cocking the hammer for another shot, "And anyone else who figures on being cute." Then to Bone she revealed, "She was going to nail you from behind."

Fudge, shaken at the event, gripped his bowler even tighter while glancing from Umbridge to Hagrid and back again while Bone just glanced at the deceptive Ministry official.

"Do you know how to lower the Barrier?" He directly asked Umbridge.

She just gazed defiantly while holding her injured hand.

"Then , I guess we'll just haft to break the Barrier ourselves." Day mused.

"_NO!"_ Fudge wailed. "Only Minister Scrimgeour can shut the Barrier down. Any attempt at tampering with it with cause _catastrophic disaster!_"

"_Then lower it!"_ Bone yelled at the smaller man, nearly bowling him over.

It was all Fudge could do to keep from crying.

_Fudge was a born Bureaucrat; the kind that demands action then turning around and hampering with the best solution offered. I symphonized with Bone for having to deal with such_ _a person._

_Umbridge wasn't any better. I doubt she even cared what the rest of us though about the stunt she just tried pulling. There were a few more that looked on with bitterness, perhaps trying to summon up the courage to try and hopefully succeed where Umbridge failed. Dolly wasn't about to put her Colt down, and others in the car weren't too happy with either Fudge or Umbridge. So that sour bunch just stood and fumed. _

_And with Scrimgeour off somewhere trying to be a hero, that left us with the ONLY option. _

_Bone wasn't rounded in on Harry and his friends with the ever classic sense of urgency. "I need you to find Scrimgeour, and get him to lower the Barrier—or we'll do it." He told them._

_And none of them baulked at that. God bless em' one and all._

_It's about then Doc hands me the discus of Boost. _

_He knows I avoid the stuff, preferring not to be a heavy hitter unless it's necessary. But the look on his face and the situation around us make's it such, and with a hesitant breath I inhale the chalky tasting Meth concoction and feel it go to work almost instantly. By then, Doc's gathering his kit and telling Bone I'm about ready to travel as Harry and the others go rushing past—which I correctly prove by getting off the floor._

"_I take it that's Sky on the cell phone?" I ask Bone, noticing he has mine in his hand._

"_He's outside wanting in." Bone tells me. "Do you have a spare?"_

"_No. But Doc and Dolly have theirs. Sky knows their numbers."_

_And not too much after that the five of us chase after Harry, with Fredricks, Archer along (though Archer was very reluctant to leave his Boss's side, especially with Umbridge around, he was assured by Bone that "He was fine.") finally catching up with them by the second car after stepping over numerous bodies along the way._

_Up ahead, through the door into the next car, it sounds awful._

"_The Baggage cars are just up ahead." Fred calls out._

_We leap-frog our way through that car, another 'lounge' created for the guards whom we find stretched out all over the floor, furniture, and seated up against the walls as Fred remarks, "Drained by the Dementor's Kiss."_

_None of us decides to stay and gawk, though I know Doc wants to try helping them simply because of The Oath he holds to as a Healer. Dolly keeps him reluctantly moving along with the rest of us. After that car, we reach the first of the three Baggage cars._

_About then, I mention to Dolly to contact Sky._

The lighting was bad in the Baggage Car. Only two of the eight overheads worked, and they were at the far end of the car. Several students have their wands out using Lumination Spells, while the rest had their wands ready to protect their friends from any assault. Fred and George were in the lead with Seamus between them lighting the way with the older members salted throughout the group, while climbing over knocked over trunks and their spilled contents.

"_Wait up there!"_ Hagrid bellowed, from the rear, to those in the front. He did it with good reason. Ahead of them, through the closed carriage door, came eerie sounds Harry herd years before. And wailings herd very recently.

"Dementors." Hagrid frowned while making his way forward through the group. "They tryin' to feed on somethin' from the sound of it."

"If it's from Barney." Harry herd Fredricks speaking from the rear, and imagining the Agent grinning from ear-to-ear while doing so, "they're getting a really bad case of indigestion."

As he was passing Harry. Hagrid glanced back in Fredricks direction as Harry looked up at the Half-Giant. There was oblivious concern and resentment on Hagrid's face in that moment, then he turned away towards the front.

"I'll 'ead through first." He told the Weasley Brothers, gripping his pink umbrella. "Don't yer' be getting' too close to me back win' I do—understand?"

Before they even could remark about it, Hagrid pushed past them and reached the door just as Harry gathered his wits and called out, "Wait!" to him.

Hagrid paused, turning to Harry with an exasperated look on his face.

"You might be walking into a trap." Harry told him, fighting his way up to the front. "It's best to be careful!"

"And yer know how?" Hagrid said with growing indignance. His hand already on the door latch.

"It's another thing Mr. Day taught us how to do, Hagrid." Fred then stepped in. "We were doing it just the day before."

"It was what we were doing all the way up here." George then added.

Hagrid was now looking angrily at all of them.

"I'm not goin' see yer git kissed by the Dementors." He growled at the brothers. "I don't wanna haf' ter face yer Mum an Dad over it."

Hagrid was about to turn the latch. Harry had been franticly turning things over in his mind since calling out to Hagrid when he reached the door, in hopes of convincing him of not blindly entering into danger. In fact, Hagrid's current behavior was absolutely puzzling to him. Why was he setting himself up like this? There was no reason…

Unless…

"_You're not going to die for me, Rubeus Hagrid! That's not why you're here!"_

That stopped Hagrid cold, with hand poised on the latch.

"If we go through that door," Harry continued, "we go through together!"

"It's going to be a damn tight fit at that, Harry." Seamus remarked.

Then George had a strange look come across his face. "Then we'll just widen the door…"

"Or," Fred added with the same look on his face. "We instead send a very rude surprise through that door first…Oh, Agent Fredricks," he began in a sing-song "can you do that for us kind sir."

It took a few moments for Harry to figure that out; though he didn't blast his way into the room where Hazel and Day were, what he did do apparently could—George figured. And he didn't appear to be too wrong about it. For the Agent quickly heaved himself through the mess, reaching the front in rapid time.

"_Hold this!" _He demanded Seamus, shoving one of Doc's Styer-AUG's into his startled hands as he moved passed as the Twin's just grinned in triumph. Quickly, he brought his hands up as if to throw an invisible ball creating in the space between them another glowing globe of light just as bright and white as that first one.

"_Move it!"_ he barked at Hagrid, who quickly realized what was about to happen as did those in the front who started retreating quickly from the front. Day grabbed Harry and Ginny, and pulled them down just as Fredricks started his throw. But as he left the door, Hagrid inadvertently opened it.

It blew inward from the wind, but Fredricks wasn't disturbed and completed his throw before falling to the ground while covering his head with his hands and balling his body up just as a Golden presence settled before the door…

There was a tremendous flash added with the rumble of an explosions followed by the sharp cracking of wood coming from the other side of the door. The Golden Presence was still there when Harry and others looked up. Day, on the other hand, looked back.

"Good one, Doc"

"Figured it would blow crap into—" he started to say, but was cut off by Skywise's sharp exclamations coming from Dolly's Cell phone.

"_Just what in the Hell are you people doing there!! Trying to kill your selves before those Meanies do?"_

"Who's that?" Someone wondered aloud.

Dolly started to answer, but now it was Moody's voice coming from the phone; _"You all are about to reach the outskirts of Hogsmead. There is now no way to stop without crashing the train, and possibly killing yourselves in the process!"_

Fredricks quickly gathered himself up and raced straight out the door, and soon there was gunfire. Hagrid, Harry, Ginny, and Day went out there as well, and right into the face of Dementor's pouring out of the blasted out wreckage of the Second baggage car. Fredricks blasted away at them with his Desert Eagle in one hand, while readying to throw another ball of power with the other.

"_We gotta release ourselves from the rest of the train!"_ He yelled over the wind and gunfire. _"It's the only way!"_

Hagrid went for the latch pin instantly. Having the longest reach of any of them there, he easily reached down and yanked the pin it free from its place on the coupling...

Nothing. The coupling didn't separate as it should. Harry could see that it wasn't jammed in place, even a few explosive rounds from Day, and several doses of Magic couldn't free it.

"You don't think the protective spell is keeping the Train together?" Someone yelled from behind someone wonder from behind.

That, if anything made harry curse his luck. _Where in the hell was Scrimgeour at?_ He wondered. Even after beating off the Dementors in the second Baggage car, none of them perched on the observation deck could even see Barnabus. The wreckage of the second Baggage car blocked everyone's vision, but the sounds of battle easily raged over the wind howling past them. Fredricks wasn't about to take the possibility of his partner falling in combat seriously, and everybody else was concentrating on freeing the coupling.

_Moody said there was no time, _Harry then remembered…

And made his decision quickly.

"_DOC!!"_ Harry yelled back into the Baggage car, though Doc was now in the doorway. _"SEND YOUR ANGELS FORWARD TO GET SCRIMGEOUR!!"_

Doc blinked in surprise. The others were just as surprised as well by the move as well

Then Dean Thomas wailed, _"We're entering Hogsmead!"_

The Train was flying at incredible speed, past the outer stone buildings that Harry easily recognized from the many trips to the magical village…

They were too late, he realized, even as Doc's Angels raced into the second Baggage car. The feeling left him coldly hollow with in.

Then, after spitting out a curse, Day yelled, _"Dolly! Tell your Uncle to short out the Barrier! "Then pass the word along to Bone. It's the only chance we got!"_

Day didn't wait for any response, he started shoving people back into the third Baggage car weather they were willing or not. Fudge's warning of catastrophic_ disaster _if the Barrier was forcibly breeched didn't appear to be much of a threat to Harry. But being with Day had showed the Thief never took unwarranted chances with either his life, or probability.

It was a very good point, he realized. And dragged Ginny by the arm back into the Baggage car, just in time to hear from Dolly's Cellphone; _"It's going to be damn ugly, and I'm only giving you people fifteen seconds to cover your asses with something!"_

After hearing that, people rushed into the car and started burying themselves under what they could find…All except Doc, still controlling his Angel Stands in the forward car with arms practically outstretched. Harry wondered what would happen. Day was moving towards his compatriot, when Doc's body buckled slightly and something invisible tore into his right shoulder drawing blood for four individual wounds. He crouched for a moment after that before quickly snapping back as if giving something a mighty yank…

And something big came crashing through the door before him, knocking both Day and Doc to the floor in a heap.…

Then the World exploded all around them. Fire roared in from both ends of Car as the Train hopped and dance insanely, throwing people and property around throughout the Train with neither care nor concern as it ripped from the front to the rear. During those moments, Harry swore he saw stars. Not the kind associated with comical head bashing, but actual nighttime sky stars twinkling in the clear sky. And the wind was everywhere, as was the smell of burning wood.

"BLIMEY!" I could hear Hagrid roar close by. "Hey…HELL!! WE'ER ON FIRE!!"

Not everywhere. What remained roof was in flames, and dropping burning chunks upon those flowering amongst the mess and even those able to move quickly enough. But it wasn't everyman (or woman) for themselves, thankfully. People were helping each other by beating off the flames, and pulling the less fortunate out of harms way over the grinding screams of Rubber-on-Metal.

Harry didn't know what that was. All he could think of was that the Train was going to derail…And where was Ginny? They both buried themselves before the explosion, holding each other tightly. Now they were separated…

Then something hit, throwing him violently forward into something that grunted painfully. Several more collisions occurred after that, each of decreasing magnitude, with the awful smell of hot rubber on metal.

Sky looked grimly at what was once an immaculate crimson steam train. Each of the cars were burned black to near ash, and some had their roofs inflames. The Barrier itself had been a layered trap, and between those layers were several heavily layers and very nasty Fire Spell primed to be violently unleashed if the entire Barrier suddenly failed—which Sky did with his own Stand. He called it the _Dark Knight_, an accurate replica of a heavily armored medieval knight of the deepest black ever seen, complete with large kite shield and broadsword.

When he called the specter forth, Moody was almost ready to attack it on impulse—that made Sky loose a few seconds in hurried explanation that what he was seeing wasn't evil, but a projection of his power. Though Sky knew he should have 'told' them all about it much sooner than this, there had been many chances during the summer to do exactly that, if only that project for Hogwarts hadn't taken up so much of his time. At least Weasley in the backseat didn't try anything beyond staring up at it in open-mouthed shock. Seconds were lost just the same, and Sky drove his Knight's Sword right into the Barrier with his personal _Dissipation _spell.

It was a wonder Antichrist wasn't flipped like a pancake in the resulting explosion, and all of them with the car. And after the spots left their vision, stock was taken on what remained of the Train.

Now free of the additional burden, the locomotive with its remaining cars exploded away into Hogsmead. Sky started to send his Knight after it, but was stopped by Moody pointing at the sky.

"More Ministry Aurors." He barked. "Let them deal with the locomotive!"

Sky wasn't about to argue. What was left behind needed to be stopped and stopped quickly. And to do that in the fast way possible, Sky made Antichrist jump onto the track just ahead of the free-rolling cars—and they slammed right into the Wagon's rear with a loud jarring crash.

Antichrist hated it, making loud roaring sounds and jumping wildly to show its displeasure while Sky yelled warning back at it to behave or else while Moody and Mr. Weasley held on for dear life as the disagreeable vehicle melted its tires against the metal tracks in the attempt to stop the cars.

"There's someone coming out of the first car!" Mr. Weasley suddenly shouted, sending both Sky and Moody glancing into the rearview mirrors.

That person was Agent Barnabus, his dark outfit messed up but somehow reasonably intact as were his dark glasses. He was followed out onto the platform by one of a set of lanky red-headed twins that almost made Mr. Weasley leap for joy as he made for the car's breaking wheel. A bout then, Barnabus deployed his Eastern Dragon out before them with its claws digging into the ground along the tracks slowing their approach to Hogsmead Station while showing them all with dirt and various sized gravel.

Then Harry staggered out of the baggage car, gripping what remained of the doorframe to steady him self while with the other hand protecting himself from the rubble shower. Then with a heave, stumbled over to where one of the Twin's was now struggling with the breaking wheel. Slowing, they approached that final turn that lead right to the Hogsmead Station, sprawled along side which was the ruined remains of the Express' Locomotive and two Baggage cars spewing both steam and Dementors—the latter being fended off by several both on the ground and from the air.

There was no way to instantly stop. Even if Sky deployed his Stand in the same manner as Barnabus did his, they would be rolling between the ground forces and the still active Dementors swarming the wreckage.

"This is going to be lovely." Moody bitterly remarked.

"Terribly." Sky commented, while rolling the Wagon's windows down and blaring the Horn. He even brought the Dark Knight out, positing it so it would defend the Train from the Dementor's directly…

Then as Moody and Mr. Weasley gaped in astonishment, Sky was astonished as well as the Dementor horde speedily fled in mass from the area and into the night with frightened howls. It wasn't quite sure if it was Barnabus' Dragon clicking its long talons or the appearance of the Knight with sword ready that did it, but it was clearly evident that they had had enough and never attempted regrouping. The broom riders above gave chase as those on the ground began running along side the cars in the effort to climb on, especially as the entire assemblage rounded that final turn before the platform at Hogshead's Station before coming to a final halt before the assembly of startled onlookers waiting on the platform.

19


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter Thirty-eight

After it All.

Struggling with George to get the breaking wheel to turn was frustrating. It took an uttered curse from George before the stubborn wheel would go and that on the final turn into the Station which slowed the train down enough for it to be stopped without help from either Antichrist or Agent Barnabus. The Wagon lifted itself out of the way and onto the Platform, taking with it the burning rubber smell that was making both Harry and George quite sick, and the Dragon went back into Barnabus' body allowing the cars to stop with the breaks just inches from the Dead-end barrier.

And once he stepped off onto the platform, taking peed breaths of cool, clean air to clear his head, Harry took a good look back on what remained of the Train.

There was confusion, people were stumbling everywhere on the Platform while yelling, crying and moaning painfully while carried from the charred carriages of the Hogwarts Express. And as he watched, unnoticed in the confusion, Mr. Weasley came up from behind clamping a hand on his shoulder that snapped him back into reality.

"Come on Harry!" Mr. Weasley whispered franticly into his ear. "We got to get you away from here."

_Right, yes_, Harry mentally stumbled with the realization. The whole point in getting him away was to prevent the Ministry from capturing him, and so he willing allowed himself to be lead around to the Station Wagon, now on the platform, and quickly climbed in next to Ginny already seated on the rear seat whose face and hands were bandaged.

She was in tears…

"Don't worry about Antichrist." A familiar voice said outside. "They'll get to Hogwarts…And pity on those who'd try to stop them."

No one else was getting into the Wagon, to sit behind its controls or aside them. It started on its own accord, and soon they were rushing along the trail that led to the wizardry school bypassing the carriages that quickly ran down the hill to Hogsmead. It roared through the opened gates, startling many stationed there with its sounds, fire, and swiftness. Quickly whipping to the left to avoid the converging mass of Aurors firing containment spells at it, even while turning the corner of the building.

On that side, there was a direct entrance to the Inner Courtyard through a pair of double ironwood doors that Antichrist was just able to fit through—closing behind them automatically as they came to a halt in the Courtyard.

Professor McGonagall didn't even wait for the Wagon to stop rolling. She hurriedly moved off the steps leading up to the terraced entrance, hurriedly motioning to both Harry and Ginny; _"Hurry up and get out of that car!"_

Harry moved on instinct; he was still a student of Hogwarts, and to disobey a Teacher's orders was to court disaster of considerable magnitude. And right now, he had no desire to serve any sort of detention. Ginny though needed to be tugged out of the Wagon, for she was still upset and shaky on her feet. For a moment, Harry thought of simply sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her into the School…

Someone else though had that same ideal, and acted much faster than he.

Ron…

He entered the courtyard in a sprint, rushing up to the Wagon and pulled Ginny from the rear seat.

"Come on." He urged. "We gotta get to the Common Room!"

With Ginny in his arms, Ron practically flew on his feet. And Harry did his best to keep up with him after McGonagall hurriedly waved him along. His friend didn't even break stride when climbing the stairs. Ron simply pushed himself onwards, down corridors and past classrooms running all the way to the portrait of the Fat Lady that was the door to the Gryffindor Common Room. There he paused for a few moments wheezing just as badly as Harry, but standing straighter than he, before gasping loudly; _"Open Sez Me!"_

"But of course." Purred the Fat Lady, and her portrait swung open.

Ron quickly ducked in with Ginny clinging tightly to him. Harry simply staggered afterward, never having run so much in his entire life.

"Nice to see…you're feeling…very well, Ron." Harry hoarsely panted. "Trying out…for the Olympics?"

"Just something I picked up in America." Ron quickly gushed out, while lowering his sister into an armchair. "Kept me mind focused…and out of trouble."

Then Harry noticed that Ron's body seemed bigger than before. It showed in his arms the most, but his whole body had noticeably changed. He was muscular, not big like a bodybuilder's or wrestlers but more like a boxer's—very taunt and rippling. Nor was he as winded as Harry was.

"Picked up a few things over there too, I see." He remarked pointing at the Calico whose carry strap had twisted itself around Harry's wrist presumably while he ran. Harry hadn't thought about the gun since the Barrier's violent collapse, and other things pushed it way in the back of his mind. It was a wonder that Professor McGonagall hadn't noticed it when he ran past her. It wasn't that easy to hide.

"Had a fight on the Train." Harry explained, while unraveling the strap from his wrist.

"I herd." Ron flatly replied.

Harry paused. It had come at him in a rush; where was Hermione? He hadn't noticed her at all in the Common Room. And Ron was quite sulky, more so than usual.

When Harry looked at him, he appeared slightly resentful.

And Ginny tried composing herself in the arm chair.

"Where's Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Bed." Ron answered with a shake of his head in the direction of the bedrooms.

Then he paused, considering something, then spoke; "Better get rid of those weapons before the others arrive, Mate. Things are bad enough as they are."

"Tell me about it." Harry briskly replied, finally freeing his hand from the strap.

"I mean it Harry." Ron replied with unrestrained emphasis. "The Ministry's playing for keeps this time. Don't give them a reason to sack you—or worse."

Harry wanted to learn more. Ron indicated that's only what McGonagall had told him, and nothing more. Adding it all up in his head while climbing the stairs to the bedroom, the appearances of both Fudge and Umbridge along with the Dursley's started making some sort of sense to Harry. Even the bold move Umbridge tried against the American Ambassador with Fudge's miserable attempts at securing authority in the chaos, acts that neither would attempt unless they were assured of receiving no punishment for them…

Scrimgeour, Harry concluded as he lay in bed in his tattered clothes, must have given them the unquestionable authority to act in that manner. That and the 'why he would' easily fit together; he was just as desperate as the Magical World was then when it fought Voldermort for the first time. Sirius had explained what things were like back then vividly…

_"Imagine that Voldermort's powerful now. You don't know who his supporters are, you don't know who's working for him and who isn't; you know he can control people so that they do terrible things without being able to stop themselves. You're scared for yourself, and your family, and your friends. Every week, news comes of more deaths, more disappearances, more torturing…The Ministry of Magic's in disarray, they don't know what to do, they're trying to keep everything hidden from the Muggles, but meanwhile, Muggles are dying too. Terror everywhere…panic…confusion…_

_"Well, times like that bring out the best in some people and the worst in others…"_

History _was_ repeating itself. First the disbelief, now the fear. No one really learned anything from the first time, those who were still alive that is, Harry easily reckoned. They were once more reacting as they did then; Scrimgeour was no different than Barty Crouch Sr. was back then, but there was that rye twist of Umbridge and Fudge added to the mix. Perhaps Scrimgeour actually remembered those times, and decided that he needed a close company comprised of those he could trust…

That would explain Umbridge. Fudge was simply useless. Unless Scrimgeour had him pegged as a convenient scapegoat, ready to use at the right time. Or, as Harry started musing, the perfect person to keep watch over those pureblood families that may be supporters of Voldermort.

He would know them, and they would know him—it was perfect.

As long as his nerve didn't fail.

"Mister Potter…Mister Potter, sir!"

The voice was unmistakable…

"Dobby…! Harry responded, sitting right up in bed.

In the center of the room bathed in the light shining through the windows, the unmistakable form of a House Elf clothed in numerous knitted shirts, sweaters, and caps piled one atop another stopped and turned to face him. The smile that then formed on the small face just about made Dobby's long floppy ears stand up on their own accord as he rushed over to the bed.

"Mister Potter, Mister Potter, it's so good to see your alive!" Dobby bounced. "Dobby was so worried that you had come to harm on the Hogwarts Express."

Harry was about to say, "Almost." But smiled instead, "Hello, Dobby."

"Hello yourself, Mister Potter, sir." Dobby head bobbed but the smile never faded. "Professor McGonagall sent me to fetch you to her."

Harry's heart raced. "What happened?" he asked.

"Dobby doesn't know, and Professor McGonagall didn't say. Professor McGonagall only to me fetch you to her."

"Right." Harry quietly replied, and rose from the bed.

"Mister Potter, Sir?"

If there was more to come from Dobby, Harry braced himself for the worse.

But Dobby pointed at the Calico still in Harry's hands after all that time. "Mister Potter, Sir. You can leave _that_ here."

Dobby's fetching only went as far as the Hallway outside the Gryffindor Common Room. There, waiting, were six very unfriendly looking Hit Wizards with Wands already expecting trouble. Harry looked at them innocently, they simply frowned back.

"Come along now, and give us no trouble." One, a particularly sour man with a short page-boy haircut, commanded.

Harry hesitated, and turned to Dobby.

"Tell Ron where I went, ok?" he informed the House Elf before stepping towards the six.

The Halls were filled with official looking Wizards of all kinds, wearing a variety of colored robes decorated in a variety of ways. But as he was escorted by the Hit Wizards, Harry could see others with identical decorations moving along the hallways—a few even saluting others with similar colored robes but adorned with fewer declaratives. He could also see no students about. Teachers too for that manner, even Fitch and Ms. Morris weren't anywhere to be seen.

And those who inhabited the pictures on the walls gazed outwardly with dread and worry, as they gathered in thick clusters whispering amongst themselves.

It was, by his reckoning of how the sunlight was streaming through the windows, nearly Noon when they reached the door to McGonagall's Office. The lead Hit Wizard, the one with the haircut, knocked on the door and in response it opened slightly. A moment later, Harry was roughly ushered through into a room that was crowed with people—some standing.

Scrimgeour was seated at McGonagall's desk. He wasn't looking particularly well, owing much to the previous night's adventure which had left him quite dishelmed and battered with several bandages across his face and nose. Fudge was standing behind the Minister of Magic on the left, puffing himself up into a figure that should be recoded with though Harry knew better. Umbridge was standing behind on the right, her injured hand held in place in a sling and looking quite angrily at Harry—which didn't bother him at all.

In fact, he mockingly smiled back at them.

"That's quite enough, Mister Potter." McGonagall admonished from where she was sitting against the left wall, along with Mr. Weasley, Moody, and Hagrid—who coyly winked at him just the same—as they were under the watchful eyes of two Aurors. "We don't need to be cheeky, now."

Scrimgeour had opened his mouth to speak, but closed it and cleared his throat instead.

"There's nothing wrong with finding a little relief from these trying times, Professor." A very smooth, almost velvety deep voice crooned from the right. "A fact we all need to be mindful of…"

It was Bone. Standing as if the previous night had not happened, ever elegant in appearance and grooming in his long gray robes that just hovered above the floor. While behind him seat against the right wall was Day, who managed to smile in greetings despite a black eye and a heavily bandaged nose. Next to him was the older Skywise who smiled likewise, as did Dolly all covered up in her duster. Doc was the last one, looking as if he'd spent the entire night awake after getting into a fist fight—which to Harry wasn't impossibility considering things. He managed a slight smile and nod of his now bare head, as his baseball cap was resting on his lap.

Nor did he have his jacket, but retained his large handguns in their dual shoulder holster rig and a large bandage on his right shoulder peering out from the bloody rips of his rumpled shirt. Leaving no doubt that the other Americans were still armed, despite the presence of two Aurors watching over them.

"Just the same." Scrimgeour finally spoke with a rasping gurgle that prompted him to clear his throat again, only louder and longer this time. "We're all here, and there are important matters that need to be discussed."

He then gazed at Harry in a very unfriendly manner, which didn't bother Harry at all, but Scrimgeour went on anyway. "The events last night, as horrible as they were, have managed to tip matters most regrettably in the favor of the Dark Lord. This has…forced the Ministry to review its current policy in this matter, especially with regards to The Prophecy regarding you, Mister Potter."

He hated him, Harry didn't need any prompting or flashing signs to tell him that much. The way Scrimgeour glared at him from behind McGonagall's desk was sufficiently telling. Harry just stood his ground and folded his arms across his chest, wondering what else would occur now.

"It appears…" Scrimgeour began, "that certain elements weren't clearly understood at the time. Since the original stored Prophecy was unfortunately destroyed in a surprise battle with several Death Eaters, we have reason to believe that a 'perfect copy' of it once existed in the possession of the late Albus Dumbledore. We base this on the fact of his 'insistence' in warning us of this current peril."

Harry wanted to respond, and very rudely at that, of what he though of all this talk. It really wasn't much to him, since all of it was now said and past. Why Scrimgeour was even speaking about it at all was puzzling. But not for too long, when Harry considered that last night they all would have been killed by both a sudden Dementor attack and the Hogwarts Express crashing. Scrimgeour was simply speaking, as a Muggle politician would, trying to hide both his ignorance and folly behind as many words as possible so to confuse and dissuade and rivals from attacking him on those matters.

_Spin_, was what it was called. And Scrimgeour was doing a very bad job of it.

But Harry kept his mouth closed. Though he did grit his teeth behind closed lips.

"What the Ministry needs is access to every bit of evidence Dumbledore possessed, if possible." Scrimgeour continued. "From such, the Ministry can create a better plan of dealing with the Dark Lord and his minions once and for all."

Scrimgeour's features softened a little bit as he brought his hands together a top of the desk as if he was about to pray before concluding, "And for that, Mister Potter, we need your help."

Harry stood quietly, gazing directly at Scrimgeour.

The desire to simply tell the Prime Minister of Magic to go stuff himself, and a goodly number of other rude things he could also do with himself as well was very appealing to him at the moment. So appealing, he figured he'd just 'forget' McGonagall's warning and just let fly right into Scrimgeour's face and to hell with how the Ministry felt about it. Standing before him were the very people who had not only gone out of their way to defame both him and his friends repeatedly, but also subject him to some of the most vile treatment he'd ever experienced in his life. Almost making staying with the Dursley's like staying in heaven during those times.

But there was this voice in his head telling him not to do that. As wrong as they were, they were now apparently desperately in need of his help. But the past kept Harry distancing himself from them, especially those three before him.

He glanced easily to his left. McGonagall, Mr. Weasley, Moody and Hagrid seemed not to betray what they felt so readily—though Mr. Weasley appeared distracted by something. On the right, was almost the same with Day, Skywise, Dolly, but Doc's expression was a little more critical. Bone was completely neutral, but waiting.

The three at the desk were becoming strained, waiting for a response.

"My help?" Harry said mater-of-factly to Scrimgeour.

"Yes." Scrimgeour's head bobbed.

"How?" Harry directly asked.

Scrimgeour seemed to choke on a reply, but managed to sputter out, "Every conversation between the two of you concerning the Dark Lord. What Dumbledore was doing? What you think he was doing. Any records he may have made, he so loved writing things down. And anything that maybe stored away in his Pensive, he often did that as well…"

Harry just nodded with, "I see…"

And he just stood there quietly thinking for a few moments as the officials waited anxiously before asking, "What is the Ministry going to being doing about last night?"

"What?" Scrimgeour blinked in shock.

"You know, last night…the Hogwarts Express…all that calamity…What are you going to be doing about it?"

Harry could hear people shifting in their chairs from both sides of the room, not exactly in a comfortable manner. He wasn't deliberately being mean, on the contrary. He was being cautious with what he knew. For he easily knew how treacherous the three before him were. It took no stretch of the imagination to know what they would do with the information they wanted from him, it would be all so easy to claim that it was they who defeated the vile Lord Voldermort—not that it bothered Harry at all if they did. But what they could do to both him and his friends did worry him. After all of the thinking he did last night, he wouldn't put it past them to sacrifice all of them in the coming battles with Voldermort.

He simply couldn't trust them after all that had happened. Being dishonest for their part in last night's incident, and several others that were coming to mind, was a good tester for trust as any he could find.

Scrimgeour's face became both flustered and harsh.

"What happened last night is of no concern of yours, Potter!"

"This is no time for games, Potter." Umbridge angrily hissed at him.

"Or foolishness." Fudge put in. "Please give us the information at once!"

"As soon as you give a reasonable explanation of how Dementors could have gotten on board the Hogwarts Express, when it was _so_ well protected that not even any outside assistance could reach us to help." Harry quickly launched back at them. "And then there was the person who impersonated me, it had to be Tonks—there wasn't anyone else that was as convenient. All you would have needed to do was keep Remus Lupin somewhere, like you did me, and everything would have worked perfectly for you…"

"Potter…"Scrimgeour hissed.

But Harry went on, not caring at all. "And there's Hermione Granger. An extremely intelligent and clever Witch, now reduced to a barely stammering dunce because some one got carried away with a Imperious Curse—"

Fudge turned crimson while Umbridge's face became an ugly mask of rage, but neither compared to Scrimgeour who suddenly rose from his seat fully enraged to shout at Potter, _"That is enough, Potter!"_

But Harry stood his ground, unafraid and unbowed.

"_You will tell us!"_ continued Scrimgeour, _"You will, or you will find yourself sent directly to Azkaban for complicity in the Dark Lord's schemes!!"_

"Isn't that a bit much?" Bone calmly asked. His simple words cut easily through the angry heat generated by the three Ministry officials. "Perhaps another approach—"

"_Stay out of this!!" _Scrimgeour bellowed. _"You don't have any business here, Bone! None in the slightest!"_

"But the World does." Bone easily said stepping up to Harry from behind. "As all of you well know."

If he had slapped them physically and cursed them all verbally in the most insulting manner imaginable, Bone could not have gotten a more startling reaction out of all three of them. It was as if he, with his gentle tones, had revealed to all in that very office the ugliness with in all of them. Eyes bulged, mouths went dry, and bodies trembled with rage that could find no release.

Bone placed a gentle hand upon Harry's right shoulder.

"Mister Potter has raised three very significant concerns here." He continued. "One I know of. Another, I personally experienced. And the last one I find quite intriguing. I do believe these matters need to be addressed in full before he is willing to help you."

Scrimgeour wavered between anger and realization. He wanted to speak, but simply couldn't find the words. Fudge just stood petrified, but Umbridge was enraged beyond belief.

She started glancing in a peculiar way towards the left wall…

As if on cue, both Doc and Day attacked the Aurors nearest to them as they moved on Umbridge's silent order. Day threw a back-handed punch to the crotch of the Auror nearest to him before kicking his feet out from beneath him. As the Auror fell, his jaw collided with Day's fist leaving him senseless before hitting the floor. Doc merely jammed an elbow deeply into the crotch of his Auror, and that one just folded up in pain while gurgling on the floor. The Aurors on the opposite side of the room tried stepping in, but Hagrid flipped one on his head with a might swing of his leg while the other was suddenly stripped of his wand—which was caught by a smiling Dolly as Skywise drew out one of his sawed-off shotguns.

"Don't." Moody lowly growled at the startled Auror. "He'll kill you."

McGonagall appeared lightly distressed at the actions, but uttered no alarm.

Mr. Weasley seemed to be elsewhere.

The whole incident took lest than five seconds. Of the three standing behind the desk, Umbridge was easily the most shocked of all.

"I can see why you wouldn't cooperate." Bone gently told Harry.

"What they did-"Harry heatedly began, but Bone cut him off.

"Ignore them for now." He gently told Harry, "But please, work with the rest of us in this matter—it very important."

As Harry looked up at the Ambassador, he was already looking directly at Scrimgeour as his wise, gentle face fading into a mask of unabashed harshness. "In this Century alone, Sir, the matter of _Containment_ has already been brought up five times. Four of those times occurred in the last Fifty years, and half concerning Lord Voldermort' directly. And in both those times, your Ministry of Magic has so horribly mismanaged the matters miracles became the _only_ means of preventing a global disaster from occurring!"

Fudge tried with some success to hide behind Scrimgeour's back, while Umbridge glared back against the wraith issued forth from Bone.

"During the first Voldermort campaign," He continued, "help and aid were offered to your country by many countries, but was rejected with the flimsiest excuses—leaving the World then to watch helplessly as that evil storm slowly consumed this very land of yours. Many of us who were witness then swore _never again_. _And never again it shall be!_

"You will accept outside help. You will work with the World in stopping this danger. And you will follow an ethical code of conduct while doing so!

"Because," Bone added in a low voice, "if you don't, still refusing in your completely asinine, beyond reasonable logical manner that you have been continuing in…_We will come in and make you accept, for the sake of this entire world!"_ Bone suddenly yelled.

And to Harry, the might figure of Rufus Scrimgeour appeared to break.

12


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter Thirty-nine

Chapter Thirty-nine.

The Offering.

Harry marveled at Bone's ability to command the situation, especially in the ease he changed from pleasantness to anger and back again as he made his point known. The displeasure at Scrimgeour's inability to deal the current acts of Lord Voldermort' was readily evident, and even extended to Fudge and Umbridge in an expression of disgust that he carried out into the hallway after the meeting had come to an end.

But Harry was filled with the wonderful feeling of having seen the Ministry receive its comeuppance for all the denials and false pretenses they hid behind all this time. Now at last, he believed, there would actually be _real_ work done towards countering Voldermort's growing influence instead of speeches and public appearances to bolster the Ministry as Scrimgeour so wanted him to do…

But, he also wondered, was there enough time to counter Voldermort?

"While the concerns you raised were honest," McGonagall, rudely yanking Harry from his happy thoughts, told him from just behind his left shoulder, "the tone and attitude used in stating them was extremely disrespectful."

That hit Harry like a slap in the face. He quickly turned to face her ready to just as quickly fire off every reason why he spoke to them as he did when a pained looking Mr. Weasley stepped in and begged, "Please Harry, don't."

Harry just blinked in surprised at him.

"We know what they've done to you," McGonagall gently continued, "it was disgraceful and disgusting—especially what happened to Miss Granger—"

"Thank you." Harry replied, slightly agitated. "Now why should I be such a pal towards them?"

McGonagall disapprovingly frowned back at him, this time with more anger at his continued insolence.

"Because we're all in the same boat, Mister Potter." Bone tiredly responded. "Them, us, everyone. We cannot afford to be divided up by our emotions, or anger, at this time."

"Which was exactly what Albus Dumbledore tried warning us against." Moody easily concluded to Harry.

And that was true. Even as the Ministry hounded and slandered him, Dumbledore always kept himself in control. He never showed anger at the Ministry's blatant doubting of Voldermort's return, or disgust at the means it took to discredit those who believed in the effort to deny the truth.

He was calm, collected, in control. Even in the end.

It made him feel ashamed. But it also made him angry remembering all they went through.

"They're in that position because they wouldn't consider _he'd_ ever return. They figured he'd never return." Harry evenly stated. "And when he did, _they_ went out of their way to deny it—even to the point of calling me a liar! Now, they just want me as a figurehead to hide behind."

"That I have no doubt of." Moody simply replied. "Retaining both Fudge and Umbridge was a very bad move on Rufus's part. I can remember when he could think on his own, and did a remarkable job of it."

"But just the same," McGonagall reminded them. "We're all in the same predicament."

She then turned to Harry with a disapproving look on her face, continuing, "I don't trust them either, Mister Potter—especially Umbridge. But still, we must work with them—"

"But, will _they_ work with us?" Day put in. "As Harry put it, they may use all of us as shields to hide behind."

"That's probably why Fudge is around." Harry added in agreement. "I figure—"

"That's quite enough, Mister Potter!" McGonagall sternly admonished.

"Easy on 'em, Professor." Hagrid said as tiredly as he looked. "We all been through a lot. And this argue' in isn't goin' ter solve our problems."

The result of that was a murmur of agreement from the entire group. There really was no need to debate what occurred in the Office, or Ministry function with the time they had left. What was done was done, even Harry grudgingly realized in the silence that followed.

A silence that held until Bone broke it. "There are a few matters that need attending to in London." He spoke up. "That may grant us some working leeway in this matter, at least as far as Umbridge's potential for treachery is concerned."

"You'll be using the Mirrorgate?" Moody casually asked.

"If it's convenient." Bone replied, turning to Doc.

"Everything's established to Saint Mungo's." Sky properly informed.

"The Ministry isn't too far from there." Mr. Weasley spoke up, breaking his gloomy silence but still sounding just so. "A short wall down a back alley is all."

Harry gazed back at his friend's father. He appeared withdrawn and uninterested the whole time in McGonagall's office, especially when the Aurors were quickly disarmed. He appeared just a little like that now. But there was something ominous weighing on his mind.

"Sounds convenient enough." Bone nodded with a growing smile. "But my experience with entering the Ministry just involves entering through the main way."

"Then perhaps you'd like if Arthur and myself will show you the _other ways_." Moody offered with a smile that made his heavily scarred face look anything but human. "He needs to get his mind off…his current troubles."

Mr. Weasley appeared embarrassed by that statement, but conceded quickly enough. "Fred's in good hands…" he muttered.

That caught Harry by surprise. He wanted to ask what had happened to Fred, but Bone accepted Moody's offer and soon the three of them were gone. Harry tried following to ask, but McGonagall restrained him with a hand on his shoulder.

"No, please." She told him. "Don't bother him with questions now."

Harry quickly turned upon his House Head, ready to loudly demand why. Doc prevented that by telling him, "Fred Weasley suffered seriously telescoped neck vertebrae in the violence that followed the Barrier's forced deactivation. One of the trunks hit him perfectly when we were all being rolled like dice in that Baggage car. Getting to him quickly saved his life, but he's plenty messed up."

Harry just stared at Doc. _Fred…injured?_ The two words didn't go together, nor could Harry's mind figure out the injury Doc described in question…

"He will be alright?" Harry astonishedly asked.

"He's tough." Doc easily replied. "Dolly and I got to him quickly, and Saint Mungo's got him in the first crossing. I can check up on him if you like."

"That wouldn't be necessary, Doctor." McGonagall quickly replied.

"Because you've been Boosting too much." Sky glared at him. "We don't need you so strung out again, regardless of the reason. _Git yer hiney to bed!_"

Doc started to argue with the older wizard, but Dolly started leading him away by his uninjured arm. "We don't need another argument with Uncle Sky, Darren." She simply cooed into his ear before pulling him away into the crowded corridor.

Harry looked wonderingly at Sky, who watched the two vanish with a heavy sigh before turning to the others; "He's a good man, very dedicated to his Oaths…But a little too dedicated, especially when there are many who need help. I wish he wouldn't resort to such recklessness in those cases."

Then he critically eyed Day. "You're not so good lookin' yourself, Boy."

"I'll be speaking with him shortly on the _Matter_." McGonagall quickly informed him.

Sky just nodded in an understanding manner.

"Will we be able to visit…Fred?" Harry innocently asked, still disbelieving what he'd herd.

Sky looked passively at Harry before nodding towards McGonagall, "That, I believe, will be up to the Professor." He answered. "She's your guardian here."

Harry blinked in surprise.

"And as such," McGonagall firmly stated over Harry, "I insist that you return to the Gryffindor Common Room, and stay there for the time being."

Harry started to protest. There were many questions he wanted answers for, and he was tired of constantly being dragged around for any reason—especially if they mattered to his continued well-being.

"Harry," Day said to him, "we'll talk later."

That made Harry pause. From behind, McGonagall gently spoke to Hagrid, "Rubeus see that Harry goes to his Common Room…"

_Harry didn't want to go. I couldn't blame him._

_To simply say that He and Fred 'were close' would be a gross understatement of incredible magnitude. _

_They were Family, and that was simply that. _

_To hear of Fred's serious injuries, well…Hell, I would have acted in the same way. It was damn stupid bad luck that it even happened in the first place. But damn stupid bad luck will happen, there's very little you can do about it. But at least Harry didn't try digging in his heels, causing a scene. He reluctantly went with Hagrid, and the dutiful Auror bodyguards. When they were gone, McGonagall rounded in on Sky._

_"How much longer will you need for the…Project?" She openly asked._

_With that natural glance of I really didn't need to know what was being talked about towards me, Sky properly replied, "I should be done with most by the end of this week. Then two more weeks to finally perfect it."_

_Sky's not the easiest person to read, but if he wants you to know something, and I mean really know something, just listen to how he speaks—that's the giveaway._

_"I'll let you get back to it. Please keep me informed." McGonagall nodded to him. And after he left with a tip of his hat, she turned to me._

_"Please follow." She asked, and I did. It wasn't that difficult to follow her in the traffic of officials and other whatnot that scurried all about the corridors we went through. But every so often, McGonagall would hazard a glance over her right shoulder to see if I was keeping up. Not surprising; staying up most of the night fighting to stay alive, then get shaken around like dice in a cup while being battered with all matter of objects that left me feeling like a well worn punching bag, and then helping with removing those from the Train who'd otherwise never be moving again…_

_I don't know if Bone even passed along the warning, I never had the chance to ask. Right now, it wouldn't surprise even me if I suddenly pitched forward to the floor only to wake up later in a bed in Doc's Tardis. Perhaps that's why McGonagall kept looking, to see if I was still behind her._

_I just hope that what ever she wanted wouldn't take too long. _

_We went down one corridor that wasn't too congested, but had Aurors spaced out every Twenty feet or so along the walls of the long corridor just expecting trouble with their wands in quick draw position. A few of them started to make the reach before the recognized us, reluctantly relaxing their hands afterward._

_In the middle of this corridor was a statue of a Gargoyle perched on a pedestal, not overwhelmingly wonderful to look at in comparison to the several other statues in the corridor. But this one gave me a feeling. McGonagall went right to it, whispered something into one of it's stone ears, and stepped back as it sprang off of its pedestal. And the wall behind it parted like a curtain, even the Aurors were surprised._

_"Come on…quickly." She urgently told me._

_And we did, passing through the door just before the Aurors outside gathered enough of their wits to try following. It closed right in their faces, leaving McGonagall and I at the base of a long staircase._

_"Umbridge has long tried entering the Headmaster's office." She openly explained to me. "If she had that chance, a great many wrongs would have been perpetuated against a great many innocent people in the name of 'Justice'."_

_Knowing the name from Harry and the Weasley's, added with what I've already seen on the Train and now in the Office, McGonagall's statement wasn't too far-fetched._

_It was damn frightening._

_The stairs ended at the foot of a grand door, which opened to a large office decorated not only with numerous individual portraits on the walls whose residence gazed at us with a variety of expressions (those who weren't dozing, or elsewhere) but with several…well, 'odd' little machines set on several low tables along the walls whirling, puffing, and turning away on their own violation. It was actually quite fascinating to watch them going about their business, watching them go at it preoccupied me enough for McGonagall to situate herself in the tall armchair behind the big desk that easily dominated the room._

_"Welcome to the Headmaster's Office, Mr. Day." She smiled, while motioning towards one of two padded armchairs situated before the desk, "Please, would you have a seat? Considering how long you've been awake, perhaps a brief rest is in order…"_

_I never say 'No' to honest hospitality. I just worried that I might fall asleep while sitting there. It would be terribly rude of me if I did._

_"Thank you, Professor." I replied, loping over to the right chair and easing myself slowing onto its cushioned seat. "I'll try to stay awake as long as possible."_

_That raised something of a smile on her face, but it didn't keep her from business._

_"Mr. Day, in consideration of your rather …'unique' abilities and the situation all of us face…I have been approached with the ideal of offering both you and your companions teaching positions at Hogwarts for this current term. The…'subject matter' we'll need to discuss, but owing to your present condition such matters can be held off for a week or two."_

_Of course. By then, my face will not be so swollen and my nose a little better looking—preferably without the bandage covering it._

_"Understandable." I managed a smile. "Have the others been notified?"_

_She had a bemused look on her face as she started to explain, "I haven't yet been able to speak with the Russell's on the matter, and most likely wont be able to for some time. And, as you've so seen, Mr. Sterling is helping out with a very special project he feels can help the students prepare faster for current events."_

_A Danger Room. What else could it be?_

_While that didn't surprise me at all, hearing McGonagall utter Sky's real name did. You see, he never gives it out freely. Even I had a terrible time learning it until a few years ago. Never the less, I still call him 'Skywise' because that's how he introduced himself to me after saving my hide from a New Orleans Voodoo Queen I had crossed._

_"Has Ambassador Bone been consulted?" _

_"He's the one that suggested it." McGonagall nodded back. "In fact, several Ambassadors' have been approaching both Hogwarts' Governor's Board and the Wizengamot directly offering their best teachers and instructors to aid us in these dark times."_

_McGonagall didn't strike me as being the kind to be mirthful at the drop of a hat, unless there was a reason why she was enjoying herself while explaining things to me. "As Headmistress of Hogwarts, I am obliged by the rules set down in the School's Charter to consider their suggestions in times of great need."_

_A bell when off in my head soon after that. She didn't mention anything of the Ministry's say in such things. While the two governing bodies mentioned had leeway in the School's affairs, the Ministry could come right in laying down the law as it saw fit…_

_And it then became clear; McGonagall didn't at all care for the Ministry as it currently stood. Scrimgeour, Fudge and Umbridge might as well have been The Three Stooges for all that they've done to stop Voldermort. To keep relying on them for anything, especially with Bone and other Ambassadors'' pushing their assistance, would have made her a fourth Stooge without half trying. _

_And she was enjoying herself, clearly and plainly at the Ministry's expense. _

8


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty.

Hermione.

There wasn't much for Harry to do after Hagrid lead him back to the Gryffindor Common Room, under the guard of the Ministry's Aurors. He felt like a condemned prisoner, being marched around under heavy guard everywhere he went. A criminal whose only crime was being famous for something he barely remembered. Unable to even do anything for Fred…

"I'm sorry." Hagrid told him at their parting by the Fat Lady's portrait, "But yer gotta stay in there fer a while…It's fer—"

"My own safety." Harry angrily concluded for his friend. By now it was becoming an overly worn, overly irritating mantra he personally was becoming sick of—in spite seeing the logic of it. And regretted saying it soon after saying it.

"I'm sorry, Hagrid." Harry started, "It's just that every time--."

"Harry…" Hagrid, quietly, but sternly leaned forwards, saying, "Gittin' angry o'ver it aint goin'ta 'elp yer one bit. Yer goin' ter alf' to get used ter it."

He straightened himself with a mildly indignant look at Harry, which soon passed once he was satisfied with the results.

"There's bound ter be a lot of trouble 'appening, and 'appening soon 'ear. Hagrid added commandingly. "We want yer ter be ready fer it when it decides ter come, understand?"

Completely chastened, Harry nodded.

"Good." Hagrid briskly quipped. "Now, I got's some things ter be attending ter. If there's not' in ter divert me, I'll come by fer a visit ter see 'ow yer doin'. But in der mean time, do somethin' about yer anger…That's important."

That he added with a smile and understanding wink before turning away, leaving Harry's spirits somewhat lifted, but not by very much, as he entered into the Common Room.

With it being the first day of Term, the very room he was in would be crowded with students in various states of organized chaos while preparing for their first lessons of the day.

There was none of that going on when Harry entered.

The Room was empty, void of all life as it would be at Midnight, in spite of what date it was except for Hermione and Ron seated at the large table near the fireplace playing Wizards Chess. Ron was watching her intently while Hermione intently studied the pieces on the checkerboard. Her back was to Harry and her long red hair cascaded down her back in an unruly rush. She had never given the game much thought for as long as either of them had known her. Though for one as intelligent and logical as she was, such a game, which relied on those very skills, would have normally been embraced by her at its introduction.

But, Harry realized, that was a different Hermione Granger than the one he knew for so long. She would be different from the actively bossy, perpetually concerned, ever dedicated and loyal Hermione. The existent of the damage inflicted upon her brain had left her a stammering mess that had a difficult time remembering things. But in the communications from the Institute where she, Ms Weasley and Ron were being treated, showed her steadily improving in her abilities through the constant stimulation of her Brain. Wizards' Chess was only one of many such tools used in that endeavor.

But just how much would be regained from the damage wasn't clear. One thing though was very clear in Harry's mind; it had to have been Umbridge getting back at her for that misleading trick that lead them to a herd of very disagreeable Centaurs in the Forbidden Forest. It wasn't Hermione's fault for what happened next, but for certain Umbridge had been deliberately cruel while placing an Imperious Curse upon her in a sick sort of revenge.

It just fit…

Ron had noticed him, but didn't call out. He nodded a little in recognition, leaving Harry rooted where he stood.

Hermione was trying to figure out her next move on the Board before her, and Ron was giving her plenty of time to think it out. Probably even loosing deliberately, in the effort to rehabilitate her. Harry simply waved back and stayed where he was, having no desire to interrupt what was going on.

After a few minutes, Hermione poised a hesitant finger over the board pointing at a particular spot in its center.

"T-There." She said.

Harry couldn't see what piece was moving, or where. But Ron quietly watched as it did.

Hermione raised her head up from the Board.

"Very good move there, Hermione." Ron honestly smiled back to her. "Put me in a real fix, you did."

There was a slight giggle from Hermione. Maybe she was even blushing. Harry couldn't see, but figured anyway.

"I think with a couple of more months' worth of practice, Harry, she'll be able to even beat Professor McGonagall." Ron widely grinned at Harry as he leaned back in his chair while Hermione simply sat in hers unmoving.

Then with a whirl of long tangled red hair, Harry was face-to-face with a very surprised Hermione.

It took a moment for her to recognize him, then another moment to move out of the chair to him. Hermione didn't bound over to him. Her movements were restricted slightly, and her focus seemed to be off a little as she approached. But from what he understood, her recovery from the existent of the injuries suffered to this point was miraculous.

Then again, Harry knew Hermione was someone special.

"Harry! How have you been?" She chimed happily while hugging him, "I haven't…seen you...since…"

It looked like she was having a terrible time trying to remember. Hermione's face scrunched up in intense concentration as she struggled with forcing the answer from her damaged brain.

"_Two weeks!_" Hermione suddenly brightened.

Harry smiled. "It's been that long, yes." He nodded. "Though it was over the Television."

"It was interesting how they did it..too." Hermione quickly said. "There was no camera, as I had though, as Muggles normally would do…It…was…"

She went back to trying to dig the memory out like before. Harry afforded himself a glance at Ron, who mouthed back the words; _"Be Patient."_ to him. Harry didn't nod back in understanding, but neither did he try forcing Hermione along. He just let her work it out at her own speed, since the practice would help her recall faster.

"_A Crystal Orb!_" Hermione suddenly remembered. "Like the ones…in…Der…Div..in..ation. When Ron and I used…it to...speak with you; we…could see you in the...crystal!"

The surprise of it had only a minor effect on Harry. Conspicuousness was a common factor amongst the American wizards and witches, the ability to appear 'normal' in everyway possible to conceal their true identities. Cars, guns, computers, and common household appliances are only a portion of a much larger veil which they hid behind…_Which they're teaching us_, Harry realized.

It was a startling revelation that held him in its grip for some time.

"Harry?" Hermione worriedly looked at him. "Are you…alright?"

Even Ron started rising from his seat with a concerned look on his face.

"Oh…just remembering something." Harry stumbled. "Something important."

He didn't like what he'd said because it sounded so much like a blatant lie. And that, right now, would be a cruel trick to play on his dearest friends.

"I just realized something important." Harry truthfully replied, as was about to explain what it was when Hermione interrupted him.

"Oh…that Gun. Ginny's…taking care of…it."

She was in the Girl's section of the Dorm Tower, the room where the sixth years slept. Surprisingly to Harry no warning claxtons sounded as he quickly mounted those stairs two steps at a time. But he didn't dwell on in too much, and by the time he reached the door it was forgotten entirely.

Ginny was sitting on her bed, just adjacent to the far left window and the second on from the door in the circular room. She greeted Harry with an expression of surprise when he entered, which soon turned to exasperation…

"_Don't you knock?_" She exasperatedly scolded him. "_This is the Girl's Dorm!_"

"…Sorry..." Harry hesitated, half in the room. He too was giving himself a mental what-for because he didn't think to knock before entering because she could have been less predisposed than she was now in her simple summer skirt and blouse affair, her school robe lying across the foot of her bed. Though another time ago, she had slept with him in nothing more than a night shirt, still Harry knew he should have exhibited better manners instead of just barging into the room.

Ginny's heated glare faded in moments, dying with a sigh as she beckoned to him, "Come over here for a moment, would you."

Harry obediently, quietly, moved next to where she was standing, thinking it wise not to question the reasons. Once there, he noticed four items on her bed before she motioned to them. There was an expensive-looking gold muggle wristwatch, the kind favored by business executives who could afford fancy cars and homes on the Rivera. Next to it was a smaller, more scuffed up watch with a worn leather strap, an equally worn black leather coin purse and finally a scuffed looking pocket make-up kit.

It didn't take Harry too long to figure out what she did.

"You transfigured the guns."

"Better than just letting them lay around like they were." Ginny matter of factly responded. "Nobody would know what they really are, since many of these things were usually sold around Dagon Alley."

"But not that." Happy pointed to the expensive watch. "That would be something sold in—"

"A Muggle Jewelry Shop." Ginny quickly stepped in. "Yes, I know. And I figured you would buy such a thing, if the opportunity presented itself."

Harry was simply stunned. The watch in question was an analog variety, but with gold rimmed numbers and several smaller indicators for months, days, and seconds below where the manufacturer's name would be, and a gold metal wrist band. Not a bad looking watch, Harry had to admit. But it really stood out, and would stand out on his wrist.

"It's a copy of one I saw in one of the shops we passed through in Fresno." Ginny explained. "It looked really nice, and I thought—"

Harry interrupted her by bending over, taking the watch off the bed, and slipping onto his right wrist. He didn't want to argue or make her feel that she had done something stupid. Ginny had done what she felt was right. He, or Ron, or Hermione, or anyone they knew would have done something similar. And there was simply no point in being angry and argue about it. In fact, he wasn't angry at all. He was worried about the attention it would attract. Many of his good friends already had seen him carrying a gun around, and would ask him about it as soon as they saw him again. An expensive watch may be too much. It slipped smoothly onto his wrist without snagging any skin or hairs there, letting him set it far enough up his arm so that his shirt would hide it. The fit was perfect, not too snug or too loose. He would hardly know it was there, and nobody else would know either.

"A very well done job, Ginny." He smiled to her.

"_Really?_" Ginny blinked. She was expecting something more, something along the lines of an argument since she didn't intend for Harry to try hiding the watch when he wore it

"Really." Harry reassured her. "You'd make your family proud."

Ginny's face flushed with modest embarrassment. She looked cute in a cock-eyed way whenever that happened, even attractive. And Harry knew she wouldn't mind if he simply kissed her there and then. But as he started towards her, a frantic knocking came to the Dorm Room's door that didn't stop until Ginny answered the door.

And Hermione entered the room stammering, "Students…a-arriving. Get H-harry out!"

It wasn't as bad as Hermione had made them figure. Only three second years, and all of them boys, were standing with what remained of their trunks and ragged clothes in the middle of the Common Room when Harry and Ginny arrived. They were a disorientated group, who'd spent the night at St. Mungo's before being aspirated back to Hogwarts. They didn't have much except the clothes on their backs, which weren't in the best of condition, and what small items were tucked away in their pants pockets.

But one thing was quite clear; The Ministry had promised them that what they lost would be replaced at Ministry expense. This they revealed after both Ron and Harry offered to share what clothing they had in spite the size difference, though Harry was sure his things were still in Tamm's trunk and he had no ideal where the car was at the moment. It didn't bother the two older boys in the least. Or at least it didn't trigger any warning bells in their minds. Until the second of the three underclassmen, known for being slightly scrambled, said, "That's wot Miz Umbridge promised."

Ron glanced at Harry sideways. There was no mistake in the wary expression on his face. Harry himself braced for something worse to come. Though after the three shuffled off to their room, he began picking away at the logic of his worry.

Unfortunately Ron rounded in on him before he could get very far.

"You figure they're spies, Harry?

"That's a bit much, isn't it Ron." Ginny critically glared at her brother. "We all know that Devon Rower's a bit thick and a twit to boot—"

"Yea, right on that." Ron grudgingly admitted. "He's stupid enough to trust her."

"And the other two?" Harry put in. "Ministry official or not, Umbridge took quite a drubbing for what she did here as Grand Inquisitor. Why would anyone beyond those stuffed-up fools at the Ministry even trust her with anything?"

As he said this, Hermione glided to Ron's side. Her expression cloudy and she appeared to be on the verge of crying. Harry noticed this just before spoke in a flatly cold voice; "_Imperious Curse._"

That made Harry freeze, and Ginny loose her impudent attitude. Not because of such an act's shocking nature, since Harry was utterly convinced that Umbridge wasn't afraid to stoop to such levels to get her way. What startled them was how Hermione made her opinion known; direct and completely cold, without any emotion at all. It told Harry how badly damaged she was.

"So," Ron stepped in, "what'dya want to do about it?"

Harry wasn't sure. Even as he glanced into Ginny's worried face, no plans for action made themselves apparent in his hurried mind.

"K-keep an e-eye on them." Hermione put in, a little less coldly than before, but struggling with the words. "T-they ca-ca-can't do any-thing to us n-now. B-but keep wa-wa watch, and t-tell Mc-Gon-a-gall."

"Tell McGonagall what?" questioned Lee Jordan, who had just entered the room with Seamus Finniigan and Neville Longbottom behind. The three looked live they had been savaged by dogs, and stood covered with large bandages before their friends in torn clothing wearing wondering looks.

Once the shock worn off, Harry quickly told them everything—with the occasional cautious look to the door for anymore surprise visitors.

8


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter Forty-one

Chapter Forty-one.

Worries.

For the next week, life in the Gryffindor House, possibly all the other Houses as well, Harry figured, slowly regained a level of normalcy that was close to the usual. If one considered the fact that most of the students were wearing bandages of various sizes over various portions of their bodies, and clothing which appeared to have been plucked from the rag bin that reeked of smoke. As soon as they were released from the school Infirmary, or St. Mungo's, or, as several described as being 'that big blue box in Madame Puffery's Office that the Americans brought', they were delivered to the Common Room under escort and left to their own devices—but strictly forbidden from leaving the room unless sent for.

By the start of the second week, the promised replacement clothing finally arrived in numerous specially marked trunks containing the name of the student they were intended for, though those who needed them the most didn't seemed to mind upon acceptance. They were too busy swapping stories with their House fellows about how they survived the Hogwarts Express over the sumptuous food delivered by House Elf from the kitchen, while Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione did their best to discreetly observe their behavior in the best way that they could—though Harry had a harder time trying to look for the effects of a Imperious Curse upon his house fellows since too many clearly saw him running through the Train with 'Muggle items'.

Namely items called firearms.

_Oh they weren't going to let it go_, Harry quietly resigned to himself. At least they weren't bothering Ginny about it. Instead, their questions centered on her brothers—especially Fred. Word, by way of those coming from St. Mungo's, had the existent of his injuries ranging from serious to him on the verge of death depending on who was speaking. Using Doc's explanation, Harry figured it involved a neck-brace and lying flat on his back in bed completely unable to move—which was mentioned by some recent arrivals. But the constant bothering was wearing Ginny and Ron's patience very thin since neither of them even knew nor had received word on their stricken sibling. All Harry needed was for his friend to throw a punch at the next house member who asked the same question as all the previous students before them. Ron looked ready to after the first week, making Harry worry about him.

And if that wasn't bad enough, there was Umbridge.

When not producing emergency edict after emergency edict as justification for keeping them in their separate Houses, every student upon arrival from St. Mungo's had to 'visit' with her in her office upon their arrival at Hogwarts. The results were generally the same thing; promising that both their clothing and school materials will be dutifully replaced by the Ministry in full. To Harry and those he could trust, it was simply just too convenient an opportunity for Umbridge to turn them into spies with the Imperious Curse to pass up. But with no real proof, who would believe him? They'd say he being paranoid over the matter. After all he went through with her, who could really blame him; next to Voldermort, Umbridge's twisted beliefs in control ran a close second in sheer evil. As time went on, it was becoming harder and harder even for Harry to sort the two out.

At least she hadn't tried anything on Dean, Seamus, and Neville—because according to them, they never gave her the chance. They willfully ignored her orders to visit her in _her office _(Really, it was McGonagall's) upon arrival and instead rushed back to the Common Room. They too were carefully noting any oddness amongst the younger Gryffindors'. But the lack of any word from the outside was what really wore away on Harry's, and everyone else's, self control. An emergency edict from Umbridge prevented letters, or other items from home, arriving by owl for the other students on the grounds of 'Insuring the Safety of the Student Body', it so ready on the posted announcement left in the Common Room one morning by the door. Several were openly wondering why that was in varying degrees of worry. Harry wondered and worried about his own owl, Hedwig. Where was she? Was she alright? When the barrier fell, every compartment on the Express was charred by flame. Some of the more heavily bandaged students recalled that moment _very _vividly, including the chaos that happened soon afterward. Hedwig was in her cage up on the luggage rack when he left the compartment…

Then there was the lack of visits from the outside, beyond Aurors and Percy Weasley whenever announcements, dictated by Umbridge, needed to be made. Bone, Mr. Weasley, and Moody apparently fell off the Earth, and that was affecting both Ron and Ginny with worry amid their aggravations. Day or Skywise had yet appeared for a visit. But then, would the Aurors outside even allow them in? If Umbridge was controlling them, most definitely not. And that would be definite with Hagrid, whom Harry could easily see walking back and forth from his hut to the school always with Mrs. Norris carefully following him from afar. Sometimes, he'd acknowledge Harry's wave with one of his own right back—mostly though it was like he was ignoring him, even when Harry yelled from the balky high window of the dorm room. But Nearly-Headless Nick, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy—Gryffindor's House Ghost, wouldn't need to worry about entering through such physical ways. Being a Ghost, he could simply emerge either through the floor or walls…

But Harry had yet to see him. None of the students have yet to see any of them since arriving, causing even more concern. Ron or Hermione, having been at Hogwarts two days prior, had not seen any of them since their arrival. Nor had they bothered to ask McGonagall when they had the chance, which almost brought Hermione to tears and Ron to anger, when she mentioned the fact.

Dobby still managed to visit, sporadically but always late at night. And what the House Elf had to say wasn't very pleasant;

"It's Umbridge. Indeed, Umbridge." He fearfully told them, with quick glances towards their room's door. Even after Ron stood guard by the door, Dobby still fearfully regarded it regularly. "All the Owls here, and still alive, are in cages, and any coming here are brought down quickly."

Seamus swore under his breath at that. The others were more vocal.

"What about the students leaving the Hospital?" Harry managed to ask. "Does Umbridge…'speak' with them?"

"Oh, Dobby doesn't know, Mister Harry Potter sir." The nervous elf said, while twisting his apron. "None of us are ever allowed out of the kitchen, if it could be helped. And those who do perform other choirs are always under watch."

"But what about Nick?" Neville innocently asked, interrupting Harry who was about to ask Dobby…

"They are with the Stranger that came with Professor McGonagall two months before, Good friend of Mister Harry Potter, sir." He answered. "Dobby doesn't know why. But the Stranger was very interested in them all—even Peeves."

_Skywise, Harry_ realized. The grouchy wizard was working on something special at Hogwarts while they were dealing with Witch Hazel in Fresno. Something he wouldn't explain over the phone.

"But they're safe?" Harry urgently asked. He wasn't quite sure of Skywise's intentions, but still need to be assured of their safety.

"Dobby's not sure, Harry Potter sir. Dobby wouldn't know. But Professor McGonagall would know, seeing that she's always checking on him."

"Well, "Seamus breathed with some relief, "at least Umbridge had nothin' to do with it."

But some of the questions Dobby couldn't answer, shaking his head and shrugging while answering them. The visits themselves lasted barely five minutes, then Dobby would vanish back to the Kitchens where hopefully the Aurors there were none the wiser—while leaving those in the room moody at best. But in the final seconds of this visit, Harry came up with a very quick ideal…

"Dobby," he began, "I need you to send a message to Professor McGonagall, and to the Americans that helped me get here…"

As the week went on, things didn't change.

Harry didn't expect instantaneous results. Given Umbridge's overwhelming bias towards all magical creatures, and Dobby fearful looks at the door whenever he visited the dorm, there was that great possibility that Dobby had somehow gotten caught doing what Harry had instructed him to do. Umbridge wouldn't be much of a match against Dobby, not much more than Lucius Malfory was.

But Harry knew all Umbridge needed was an excuse to really grab control of Hogwarts. Being 'attacked by a 'deranged' House Elf was as perfect as any. It was _that_ sinisterly simple.

Towards the end of the second week change started occurring, heralded by the arrival of Doc and Dolly in the Common Room. He with his over-sized field backpack of medical supplies that floated on its own once he removed it from his back, while she organized the students by their age and readied their medical files in a small paper box so they can be checked on under the watchful eyes of the four Aurors who followed them in.

Trying to get near enough to them just to ask what was going on was quite impossible, especially with the Aurors and the possible cursed students. But they had well practiced means of slipping messages through. It occurred after the students to be checked up on were already situated; Dolly would simply wander over to Hermione to enquire about her health with Ron, rattling off questions in a practically matter of fact manner that even made the Aurors pay less interest in her…

Then carefully slip a tightly folded up piece of paper under the clip board's bottom end when it was handed to either Ron or Hermione for them to sign the documents on it. And when they handed the clipboard back to Dolly, they had the message concealed in their hands. Harry didn't believe it when he noticed it happen, the moments were too fluid and practiced, not awkward—which would have alerted the Aurors instantly had they been looking.

When she left, she knowingly winked at Harry before returning to her husband as Ron innocently lead Hermione back up the stairs to the Dorm Room's. Harry then waited a minute before following, trying his best not to appear too anxious while climbing the stairs and looking behind him once he was high enough not to be seen from the Common Room floor. Just the same, he nearly yelled out in surprise when Ron suddenly grabbed him by the arm from the door to the Fourth Year's Boys Room.

"You just about jumped like a Girl, Mate." Ron quietly hissed while pulling him into the room.

Harry had something snappy as a comeback to that, he felt indignant enough to say it. But kept it to himself for now wasn't the time to be picking fights with allies.

"What did you get from Dolly?" he asked instead.

Ron just motioned with his head towards Hermione, who was quickly reading the now unfolded yellow paper in one hand while holding a plastic ball-point pen that had been rolled up in it in the other. She looked up at Harry's voice.

"T-they want to me-meet w-with us." She quickly told him. "In…purrr-son."

Harry had to keep himself still to keep from jumping on the message.

"Ok…"he began, quickly thinking of what would be a good time—and how they could do it. "The Seventh Years Boys room…" Harry glanced at Ron, who nodded. "At Ten, tonight."

Hermione recited the information to herself before working the cap off the pen and writing it down on the fresh side of the paper. Her handwriting, once absolutely neat, was now a barely readable mess of squiggly lines and heavy punctuation. And once done she had difficulty with the pen's removable cap and refolding the paper, leaving it a jumbled mess of awkward folds which she handed quickly to Harry.

"G-get t-t-this back to-to…Her!" Hermione quickly stammered out. "Theytheythey can on—lee stall the…A…Aurors f-for so…long!"

"Just try not to appear in too great a hurry when you do." Ron mentioned as Harry rushed back out of the room.

Just how, Harry hadn't a clue—especially with the Aurors watching. But he knew that if he remained calm enough, with the paper folded up and hidden in his right hand, he could do it. He just had to get close enough.

He reentered the Common Room as the quick examinations were almost over; leaving those who had gone through milling about by the windows…With very bored looking Aurors. Harry paused. That wasn't good, even for him. The Aurors were supposed to be on duty, just as they were when he went up to meet with Ron and Hermione, not simply milling…around…

At once, felt his head start to swim. He was suddenly lightheaded and awkward, and almost stumbled down the last three steps…Face first into Dolly's ample chest.

"Sorry about that." She quickly whispered while holding him upright. "Gotta be more careful with those Area-Effect Spells."

Harry blinked like a drunk. Everything was so blurred that trying to focus on anything before him was simply impossible. Even Dolly, practically inches in front of him…

"Let me get you over to this armchair here." She whispered again. And now Harry knew he was moving, quite fast and teetering badly without ever feeling his feet on the ground. A quick spin and he settled very abruptly in what he recalled to be one of the high backed chairs near the fireplace.

"Try not to concentrate too much on your surroundings." Dolly whispered again. "It'll only prolong the effect…And thanks a bunch for the message; we'll be seeing you soon."

Harry wanted to say something. But the specter that was Dolly drifted quickly away while his mouth flopped open on its own accord. It wasn't until an hour later that things gradually cleared up, both mentally and visually, for him to finally move again.

As the hour he suggested for the meeting drew closer, Harry became annoyed by one fact; how were they going to do it?

An Area-Effect Spell, as Dolly called it, would simply be too much to bear with again. And the teasing he got from the younger students for drooling all over himself while falling asleep in the armchair he perfectly knew he'll never live down. Even if it changed the subject from Guns, it would be a wonder if he could even cross the Common Room's floor without a remark or comment launched at him. At least he had several spare shirts to wear, even if they were very muggleish polo shirts in several colors--though very out of place at Hogwarts.

At least those in the bedroom with him didn't needle him over it, even if Ron threatened to box the ears of the first who tried. Neville remained quiet while Lee (who finally was released from St. Mungo's with his arm in a sling and his neck wrapped in a very uncomfortable heavy leather brace) suffered quietly while sitting on his bed. Both Seamus and Dean simply gazed with mild irritation at Ron.

"Ron…we've had a very long day—alright?" Dean started.

"So for Merlin's sake, will you quit being all fussy—please?" Seamus finished.

Ron's face became as red as his hair, but he did nothing more than stand. For which Harry was thankful for.

And at Ten, Harry started worrying that some thing did happen to the Americans.

"Hey!" Dean, who had taken up a watchdog position at the west window, called out. "Somethin' commin' up!"

The north window was too far around the tower to give any good view, so Harry joined the others at the west peering over Seamus' head to see what Dean was pointing at.

"There! You see those lights there'!" Dean pointed.

The wrought-iron grate that surrounded the window made it difficult to see what Dean was trying to point out to them. Harry had to duck and weave his head around the obstructions to finally spot the tell-tale, but tiny, headlights of a tiny Grand Am coupe drifting up to them.

It couldn't have been anything else.

"It's them!" Harry nearly shouted, but rasped instead. "Dean, open the window!"

Dean, even with Seamus and Ron helping, had a difficult time with the latch. It appeared to have stuck shut more from age than deliberate intent on someone's part, and took all of them to finally force the simple latch bolt upward enough to free the window—which protested it's opening by squeaking very loudly. A little too loudly, for as Tamm whizzed through the barred grating, flying over their heads, as several points of light winked to life on the ground far below.

"_Wot's goin' on up there!_" An demanding voice wafted upwardly to them. "_Wot's the matter?_"

Harry's insides tightened as the coupe grew to its full size in the middle of the room as everyone watched with varying forms of amazement. That was all they needed now, Aurors' investigating their room. Tamm could shrink quickly enough, but with their magic the Aurors' stood a very good chance of finding her and those within her.

That's when Neville yelled through the window, "It's stuffy in here! Can't we be allowed to open a window to let some fresh air in?"

Harry's heart stopped. The others just turned and gaped at first, until Ron started reaching for Neville with the oblivious intent of hurting him very badly while Dean ran to the door to listen. But Neville just stood by the window without a worry much worry, unlike everyone else in the room. Then Seamus elbowed Harry with a knowing grin on his face. About then, Harry realized what Neville was doing.

"_You know we're in dangerous times!_" The demanding voice came back again. "_Close that window, and git to bed!_"

"Why don't you git yourself, Cracker!" Seamus rudely shouted back. "It's right bloody impossible to breathe in here with out the bloody window bein' open!!"

Now it was Ron who looked startled.

Harry managed to calm him down before turning to Tamm, who was now her regular size and shifting quite drastically as Hagrid managed to ease himself out through the passenger side door. Other than looking a little green, as can be seen under the pale light in the room, he appeared fine. He also appeared to be angry. Then distracted by Dolly fighting to get out of the rear seat, while Doc emerged from the drivers side heading straight to Lee without any acknowledgement to anyone else.

"_How dare you call me that!!_" the voice from below, now angry, charged right back. "_You little—_"

Now it seemed there was a fight occurring down below. There were enough loud voices to indicate such. Seamus just stepped back from the window with a smile of undeniable delight.

"Seamus Finniigan…"Hagrid lowly growled. "If I wasn't—"

"Oh come off it." Dolly chided, seemingly stuck in the car. "They got us in, and move just a little more to the left so I can get out."

Once a flustered Hagrid did, Dolly slid out with a smile readjusting the giant revolver in her waistband and brushing her leather duster as she stood next to him.

"Is this everyone?" She quietly asked. "Where are the Girls?"

"In their room." Ron frankly answered. "Hermione figured she n' Ginny would be spotted coming up here, and decided to wait in their room. It's on the same floor as us, but on the other side of the Tower. You'd haft to go down to the Common Room, and then take the stairs on the left."

As Dolly listened to that, she nodded and motioned with her right hand before saying, "Got it."

Then she turned to the door.

"Wait!" Ron hoarsely shouted before Harry could. "What'dya think your doing?"

"Getting the others." She turned with a smile while drawing out a slim box from an inside pocket of her duster. "Don't worry…I'll be back."

Now Seamus and Neville were joining Ron and Harry in trying to stop her. But Dolly simply put the box to her lips, and blew…

Now she was standing by the opened door with a startled Dean, wondering how she suddenly moved next to him. Another Area-Effect spell, Harry realized. But without the embarrassing ill-effects like previous.

"Remember." She smiled to them. "Don't worry…I'll be back."

And she quietly closed the door when leaving.

"Magical action threw music." Hagrid mused. "Aye fer'gotten the real name of it…"

He paused, shook his head, then turned to the others—especially Neville.

"Wot they doin' down thair, Neville?" He hoarsely asked.

Neville glanced back out and down, before pulling his head back from the window. "Arguing…I think."

Hagrid gave a sigh, telling Neville to "Stay there and keep watch." Before turning to the rest of them in an apologetic stance.

"I'm sorry fer not gittin' to yer all sooner." He explained. "Umbridge is usin' her Ministry connections to bash Professor McGonagall as much as she can, and even to take control of Hogwarts." With a nod towards Doc, who was eyeing Lee's neck brace with oblivious distaste, Hagrid continued, "She even' went after His Box, with da Mirrorgates' and all."

Then the half-giant bearded face broke into a very large and satisfying grin. "Yew shoulda' seen Umbridge go inter hysterics when Doc thair called up both his Patronuns' at once…Bet that's somethin she'll never do again—Oh!, aye almost fergot.."

He reached into a pocket of his great coat, and bringing out several rolled up copies of the Daily Prophet. "These folk's been havein' a grand old royal time with da Ministry." He explained while handing them over to Ron. "News not fit by old Umbridge's standards that's fer sure."

"That would explain the lack of any Owl Post's" Harry added.

Hagrid paused, gazing at Harry not quite sure what to say next. His reluctance made Harry suddenly worry that he'd hurt his friend's feelings.

"Harry," he quietly began, "I'm sorry to be ter one to tell yer this…but, yer Owl is dead."

Harry just started back in disbelief.

"A good number of Familiar's were killed on the Train." Hagrid continued. "They had me bury' in the lot all last week…I'm sorry."

Harry just didn't know what to think at that moment. Hedwig being dead was like Fred being injured, it took a lot to get over the disbelief at the news. Even the others in the room were uncomfortably quiet. He gazed down at his hand, where months before an enraged Hedwig had bit him as he tried helping her. He hadn't thought about the pink gash in the palm for quite a while now.

It just didn't seem…real.

The knock at the door snapped Harry back.

Dean practically jumped to the ceiling in surprise. It occurred again while he gathered his wits…

Then it opened.

"Tell me; are all of you deaf in here?" Ginny dispersedly frowned upon entering. "The three of us were standing out there for a full two minutes waiting to come in."

Hermione followed close, witnessing the verbal lashing Ginny was giving out with an idiot's smile on her face. Dolly paused by the door, listening for anyone coming up the stairs while drawing the big revolver from her waistband. After a few moments, she quietly closed the door pushing its heavy iron bolt deeply into the doorframe.

"Troubles?" Hagrid asked, watching the scene.

"T-T-There were …Aurors…in t-the c-c-common…roooom." Hermione explained. "We ma-ma-managed to get pa-pa-past with…music."

"It looked to be just a check-up." Dolly added, putting the revolver away in her pants. "Nothing really serious."

"Too convenient, I say." Ginny crossly remarked. "We don't need Umbridge finding us all in here."

"If Dolly has her Harmonica, don't worry about it." Doc spoke up at last from Lee's bedside. "If she got you here, it was with its help."

"Thanks." Dolly just breathed.

Ginny was flustered, but whatever else she wanted to say came out with an angry huff under Hagrid's watchfulness. Taking that as a sign that he could once again take the floor, Hagrid repeated what he'd said to the boys earlier. At the mention of Hedwig, both Ginny and Hermione looked at Harry—who by then was more stoic with the repeated news.

"As all of yew may 'ave gotten from Dobby," Hagrid continued, "Umbridge 'az all of Hogwarts' sealed off from ter rest of ta world; not a thing comes in with out 'er knowin'—and nothin' can leave either, unless yer's knows a way…Or tew."

Hagrid said that with a great deal of pride. It would explain how he managed to get issues of the Prophet. And apparently anything else.

"But the real matter is this place in on 'Lock-Down'." Dolly then stepped in. "Umbridge is trying to control all access to and from this place. And if you get around to reading what's in those papers Hagrid handed over, you can pretty much get an ideal as _why_ she's doing it."

"I take it the Ministry's not having a good time of it." Ron remarked.

"The Ministry's getin' it in the britches." Hagrid gravely replied.

And just then, Lee uttered a long moan of pain followed by a low curse from Doc.

Turning back to Ron, Hagrid simply continued, "Thar gittin' whipped over wot happened."

He then turned to Harry with a very serious expression as Seamus and Dolly moved quickly between them. "And Ayve' been givvin' some thought to wot yer said about Tonks, Harry. 'Er folks 'aven't seen 'er since she en Remus went ter Bill and Fleur's weddin', and thair worried ter no en'."

Harry nodded in silence. It was something he didn't want to believe in himself, even hoping he was wrong about it all.

"B-but-but, if s-she was a-board the Train as H-Harry," Hermione started. "Ssssshe could h-have…d-d-dis-guised herssself in the…con-fuse-on after the T-train arrived in…Hogs-meade."

"Very." Hagrid nodded slowly to her. "Figure she's idin' somewhere in or abouts' Hogsmead, which like Hogwarts' is evry' bit as closed off from ta World. Da only people thair are Aurors."

"Wasn't Tonks an Auror?" Dean asked.

"And a Metamorphmagus." Ron quickly answered. "It wouldn't be too hard for her to hide there."

The news made Harry feel even worse than before. It also made him even more determined to find his friend. Before he could suggest that they should use the tunnels to reach Hogsmead and try finding her, Lee let out with a loud painful moan from his bed.

"They should have kept him at Mungo's longer." Doc swore. "Hold him down a little bit—"

"Wot are yew doin' to em?" Hagrid angrily demanded as he started towards Lee's bed.

"Trying to get this Bondage Collar off his neck." Doc hissed back, "And mind your volume, there's people outside."

Poor Lee Jordan was grimacing fully in pain, sitting up with Dolly and Seamus help on his bed but leaning towards Doc's left shoulder with the leather collar off his neck. Without much concern, Doc just dropped it on the floor while getting a new, comfortable cloth one from Dolly.

"I want to patch him with a 'Weekly'." he told Dolly. "It should help him heal a little bit faster."

Dolly then went back to the medical kit Doc had near him, quickly retreating what looked like a very large, square bandage that Doc then placed on the left side of Lee's neck.

"What's that for?" Seamus asked, beating out several others for the honor of asking. "Why not give him a Potion?"

"The Patch, as we're fond of calling them in America, after the Nicotine Patches used by smokers trying to break that habit, _contains_ powerful healing potion." Doc explained as he finished fastening the new collar around Lee's neck. "While traditional spoon feeding has its merits, there are times when the potion's abilities are needed much faster than 'quickly'…Now help ease him back down."

As Lee was slowly laid back down, he looked a little more comfortable than before.

"The fastest is to send it through the pours of the skin." Doc continued. "Or have him breathe it into his lungs, either way it's absorbed into the blood where it then does its job. In your friend's case, an inhalant wouldn't work due to both the amount of potion he has to inhale just to get him through the night, and the active time the potion has to work. The Patch I fixed to his neck is good for a whole week."

Doc then neaten himself while finishing with, "By then he'll be better."

Already, Lee was sleeping quietly.

"But still, "Doc added, "appoint someone to watch over him. He's not out of misery yet."

14


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter Forty-two

Chapter Forty-two.

And More Worries.

Lee Jordan appeared to be improving from his injuries at a slow and steady rate under the attention he was getting. But still far from being fully healed, he needed help performing the basic necessities of feeding and using the bathroom by himself. In those times, it fell upon the others of the Dorm Room, including Harry, to tend to their stricken friends' needs—however repugnant one particular duty was to perform. Fortunately, they didn't haft to perform it too often by themselves. Madame Pomfery herself visited usually twice on a daily basis, sometimes three or four times if she could manage, to tend to Lee's condition personally.

Like Doc, she too was concerned that Lee had been released too soon from 'proper care', as she termed it.

"There are a large number of seriously injured from the Hogwarts Express still at St. Mungo's, along with others suffering from Death Eater attacks—including Muggles." She explained after letting Lee rest after helping him eat. "But to rush them out as they have been makes no real sense. It's not like they're lacking the room for them, or the help."

She and Doc, and Dolly, were among the very few who could move freely within Hogwarts who weren't a representative of another country or an official from the Ministry. Using this freedom, while the Aurors' Umbridge sent with them were else wise occupied by Dolly's 'musical magic', they were able to manage an underground postal system delivering messages largely personal in nature and directed to either Harry (wondering about the re-formation of Dumbledore's Army) or to Ron and Ginny (either questions concerning Fred's health and how Hermione was doing). between Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw houses.

Slytherin was largely bypassed. Not for distrust, but for lack of access. Apparently the parents of many of that House sent their personal physicians to then to their children, and would not allow anyone else to come near. Umbridge of course respected their privacy, and the others just let it be because there was no real reason to fight over it. But Dolly was more than willing, having earned the hatred of the official for stopping her on the train.

When they couldn't personally handle the messages themselves, the duty fell upon the House Elves, namely Dobby, who when he delivered Lee's meals to him, would skillfully fold the secret messages into the napkins and towels he'd take along. There was no way to even notice the messages, even with a long look at the food tray Dobby used. But the nighttime meetings with Hagrid, using Tamm, were only possible depending on how the Aurors were particularly stationed on any given night. Besides the Mirrorgates, Umbridge had repeatedly used her Ministry Authority to confiscate Tamm, Antichrist and the still recovering Dancing Queen from the stables, only to run for safety with the Aurors when either Antichrist, or Tamm, or both, came roaring out to fight. Especially Antichrist, whom spells had no effect upon. But when Hagrid could, he's always have copies of the latest issue of the Prophet. And the news concerning the Ministry wasn't pleasant.

Not at all.

Incensed at Scrimgeour's lies and use of a 'fake' Harry Potter as the means of masking the Ministry's ineptness at dealing with the Dark Lord, the once vaulted Prime Minister of Magic was being beaten literally to a pulp in article after article. Many called for his immediate removal, on the spot no less. But try as they may, Scrimgeour knew about provisions in the laws of both the Isles and Ministry, long forgotten and obscure clauses and powers with in the very framework of the Ministry's Charter granted to the Prime Minister of Magic in the event of 'troubling times' that he used to prevent himself from any forced removal. These rules were backed up, disclosed, even pointed out as to where they were in the Charter and how they were still legally binding even after all the centuries, by a very detailed and painstakingly written article by Dennis Prefit, the High Prosecutor himself, and one of the very few to even dare openly support Scrimgeour or the current administration. But people figured he was only doing what he was doing to save both his neck and job, and demanded his removal too.

As for what the rest of the World thought, they were already lining up behind a treaty that would force Britain to accept help in dealing with the Dark Lord. Spain, Belgium, and always neutral Switzerland, had boldly joined with most of Europe on it, with the rest hurrying in their support along side the Americas, Asia and Africa. But in spite it all, there was always a picture with Scrimgeour loudly denouncing, or defending his position, to somebody off frame.

"You'd think he'd give up by now." Neville remarked in the chair next to Lee's bed, after reading the articles for the uncounted time.

Harry, reading his own copy on his bed, just smiled at his bewildered friend.

By the beginning of the third week, progress was beginning to be made towards both the starting of the long delayed school year.

The timing of the news couldn't have been more fortuitous for those in Gryffindor; for as Lee Jordan made his first trip down to the Common Room, by slowly walking and holding the handrail, to the rousing welcoming cheers of his housemates, Professor McGonagall entered the room.

She was ever formal in her teacher's attire, with her tall dark pointed hat set back upon her head and glasses perched upon her slim nose. When the noise died down, and after marveling at Lee's demonstration, she then addressed the entire Room.

"I have come here to announce that on the Twenty-sixth of this month, Hogwarts will start its delayed school year. _All_ materials that you have lost will be replaced by this coming Friday, the Nineteenth. The following day will be one of orientating the newest students to Hogwarts, which…" And she did glance upon all the Seventh Year students while adding, "I do expect the more senior amongst you to help in this affair. It will be a perfect chance to make a good impression upon the more novice amongst you."

Harry felt reluctant, and Seamus seemed to waver while Dean glanced wonderingly at them both. But Ron didn't take the news very well, visibly frowning and shifting his stance uncomfortably.

McGonagall noticed this without any effort since Ron didn't try hiding it. "You can be excused for this, Mr. Weasley." She directly told him. "Since you are currently performing…_'Special Duties'_. Also, several members of your family will be arriving on that day—it would be better if you tended to them instead."

Ron didn't blush out of embarrassment. His face did turn a little red, as some of the students giggled at his apparent embarrassment, but he was more surprised than chastised by the attention from McGonagall. There were other things as well. Harry didn't really listen. His mind was in a blur over the news given to Ron, but things like '_Owl Post_' and '_Ghosts_' did lodge in his mind. Ron should be happy, in some sense, that his Family was coming, Harry figured. But Ron was as stone…

"Mr. Potter…_Mister Potter_."

McGonagall's practiced voice drug him back quickly to where he was. And she was quickly approaching him.

"I'd like a word with you, Mr. Potter…In private."

She didn't appear too pleased. Perhaps she became rightfully annoyed because his attention wasn't fully on her as it should have been. But as he followed her up the Girl's Dorm room steps, Harry noticed that McGonagall's behavior wasn't because she was angry with him.

When they were out of sight of the Common Room, he quickly found out why.

"Have you received any sort of summons this past week from Umbridge?"

It was concern. _Absolute _concern.

"None Professor." Harry honestly answered, quite honestly confused.

McGonagall paused in worried contemplation, glancing back down the stairs.

That made Harry's mind race from a standing start to a startling conclusion. "Are we being spied upon?"

"I don't know." McGonagall nervously breathed. "I'm not certain. Perhaps it's just nerves on my part. But Umbridge seems to _know_ there's something going on. She's been trying to get the House Elves to cooperate with her since Sunday."

_Umbridge seems to know there's something going on…_The news simply knocked Harry right off his feet, especially how she could have known. Everyone was going out of their way to be careful, especially with all of the turmoil occurring within the Ministry—and outside of it.

"Harry, I want you to be careful. Take no risks, now is not the time." McGonagall directly told him in near whisper. "I'd advise you to practice your Transfiguration Spells on anything…_incriminating_."

Harry just smiled. "Yes Professor…If I had my Wand."

That made McGonagall pause, then wince. "Right." She eventually sighed. "With everything occurring, it slipped my mind."

Harry just nodded, saying nothing.

When Doc arrived to see Lee later that evening, Harry told him, Lee, who was in bed, and Ron, who was present in the room as well, what Professor McGonagall had said to him.

"How certain was she?" Doc critically asked.

"Not all together sure." Harry shrugged. "But it appears that Umbridge knows there's something going on."

"The House Elves would tell her to go stuff herself." Ron snickered.

"Maybe…Maybe not." Doc said quietly while replacing the spent Patch on Lee's neck with a fresh one. "Umbridge's paranoia may have reached the extent that she's completely _deluding_ herself into thinking there's something going on here. Not completely unusual, numerous dictators, even those with a secured power base, eventually come to believe there's rebellion brewing in the streets and rebels behind every corner."

"Which perfectly describes Umbridge." Ron cheekily commented.

"Givin' what the Ministry's going through, I wouldn't be surprised." Lee managed a grin after Doc set a new patch in place. "They're all looking at a trip to Azkaban, very soon."

Ron grinned devilishly at that. And it wasn't a bad prospect either to think about either. But something tugged at Harry's mind that made the ideal not so very pleasant to think about, something he couldn't quite narrow down despite the effort to.

That is until Doc spoke, while closing the collar around Lee's neck; "I wouldn't say that. If things are as bad as they're saying, this country is going to need _all hands_ on deck. I doubt very strongly anyone will be sent anywhere far out of the way no matter what the reason is until this is over."

"That would explain why Fudge is still being kept around." Harry found himself speaking absently.

"Honestly, Harry, that's more like needing someone to take the blame." Ron remarked. "And right now, Scrimgeour needs someone just for that."

"You mean the Ministry _needs_ all the help it can get." Harry directly spoke back, realizing what it was that bothered him just a moment before. "They're willing to keep all those plodders and fools around just to boaster their ranks…"

"And to make convenient martyrs." Doc added, now finished with Lee, and was turning to Harry and Ron. "Excellent way of getting rid of those who allowed this mess to occur, so to avoid any more messier scandals. Any who survive can find themselves vilified upon returning to service—or quickly fading from public view. But getting back to the possibility that Umbridge knows about the underground postal service, or thinks there's something going on, what actions can she take—and what can she do if she finds something she'd banned?"

"She's not Headmaster of Hogwarts." Ron shrugged in an uncaring way. "There's nothing she can do about it."

"But Ron..._she could_." Harry pointed out, fully grasping the circumstances. "Given the nature of what we're all up against, Umbridge can easily convince people that she's the better person for the job of running this school than McGonagall."

"Yer bloody daft, Harry. Nobody will take her seriously."

"Wrong. She was _never_ making policy like Scrimgeour was." Harry responded. "_She was never seen by his side_, Ron. Look at the pictures in the Prophet; she's always in the background. They're never standing side to side. Who'd consider her for an Azkaban trip? She was just some Ministry Official that followed Scrimgeour's orders. I can simply see her now denying ever having a part in Scrimgeour's folly at the Inquiry."

"That's bloody-"

"Harry's got a point." Doc spoke up. "Umbridge _has never been_ front and center in any of those official photos released over the summer, but always to the back and side—just like a good little Ministry official who's supportive of the current leadership. Nor has she ever been in on any policy making, at least any that's known.

"But give her a nudge, and she'll make all manner of claims that she was never involved in anything that caused harm. That she was only 'doing' what she was told, by either Scrimgeour or some other ministry official, and not a thing more."

Then he quietly considered things as a whole. "Apparently our postal service has seriously undermined McGonagall's ability to protect Hogwarts and its students properly. And what an opportunity _that_ would give Umbridge to take command."

"No way!" Ron exclaimed.

"Yes." Harry nodded. "All she needs is an excuse."

But Ron still didn't believe. "That bloody witch's doing now what she did before—and worse!" He angrily shouted. "And if you think that she—"

"What about the students she's 'spoken to' before they were allowed to come here, Ron?" Harry nearly yelled back. He didn't want to loose his temper with his best friend; especially not after all he went through. But it was becoming hard not to be frustrated with him.

"Then add the number of visits being made to Lee." Doc quietly spoke up, motioning to the bed ridden Gryffindor. "Granted we're doing our best, but I will be the first to admit we're being reckless about our safety in all of this. Remember what Harry said; _all she needs is an excuse. _Now, we then add her paranoia to the mix and end up with a righteous problem on our hands."

"But what about what she done to Hermione…and Mum…and—"

Ron angry face became as red as his hair. He tried speaking, but the words were a garbled mess of sounds and barely legible insults that finally climaxed in the violent shaking of his head and storming towards the door—which he ripped open then slammed shut as he left before either Harry or Doc could stop him.

"Dolly's down stairs." Doc muttered assumingly. "She'll head him off before he does something stupid."

So was Hermione and Ginny, but in Harry's mind, Ron wasn't the only stupid person…

There was himself for instance.

8


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Three

That Friday.

Concerned about his friend's feelings over being disbelieved may had hurt him deeply, Harry tried speaking with Ron after that. He'd always been sensitive to a good many things, and Harry always tried being accommodating. But on this matter, Ron had to be shown that he was wrong in thinking that Umbridge couldn't do anything to take control of Hogwarts.

The problem was getting Ron to speak with him. He'd often deliberately busy himself with the younger students, whom Harry dare not say things around because of his suspicions, or busily helping Hermione regain more of herself. Harry definitely didn't want to bring the matter up around her, fearing her added insistence would literally drive Ron away from them all. As for where the others stood on the matter, Seamus and Dean were in agreement with Ron while Neville sided with Harry and Ginny. The Creevey's (recently brought in on the secret) were largely split over contacting McGonagall over the matter, while the Patil Sisters (recently brought in as well) were strongly for it. Harry wanted better odds, but in the end decided that it was best not to push matters, at least not until Friday.

When Dobby finally arrived with his Wand, Harry sent the House Elf back with a message to McGonagall informing her of the problem and what he tried to do about it.

"It would have been better to wait for Mum and Dad to arrive." Ginny told him later when they were together on the stairs. "They always could set him right."

But Harry slowly shook his head. "The Professor has to know." He quietly replied. "You know how she hates surprises."

Ginny reluctantly agreed to that, and as that Friday approached appeared to be walking on eggshells just as much as Harry was.

When that Friday finally arrived, it did so in the same bold manner McGonagall used to enter the room. All activity stopped in her presence, as she turned upon Ron who stood expectantly next to a seated Hermione.

"Your parents will be here shortly, Mr. Weasley. Please follow me." She directly told him. As Ron started forward towards her, McGonagall turned smilingly towards Harry and Ginny. "Please come too Ms. Weasley, Ms. Granger… Mr. Potter. I'm sure your company would be appreciated."

Harry paused in surprise. Ron did as well, but Harry, Ginny, nor could Hermione, who happily rose from her seat, see his face like McGonagall could. And she didn't look very pleased by what she saw there.

"Come now, Mr. Weasley." McGonagall admonished. "You know your Mother would like to see her daughter _and_ both Hermione and Harry as well."

Exactly what Harry worried so much about over the past few days was suddenly coming to pass before his very eyes. What exactly was McGonagall thinking, he wondered. He was the last person Ron wanted to even be near at the moment, and that he figured from his own failed attempts to speak with him.

"Please, come along." She now spoke with a little more sternness. "We must not keep them waiting."

_No_, Harry realized, _we must not._

"Yes, Professor McGonagall." He hesitantly spoke while stepping towards her.

There were Aurors', Hit Wizards, and numerous other robed officials of the Wizarding World in the hallways outside. Their presence gave Harry something to divert his attention away from a silently boiling Ron, on the right side of Ginny, walking with a purposeful stride which Hermione was able to match as they followed McGonagall to the Infirmary. His silent friend's eyes were straight ahead and on McGonagall's back. Nothing around him could divert him from that, which made Harry sick with growing worry.

It was a stupid argument, yes—very stupid. But by not listening fully to his friend's concern, Harry knew he very much as well had made him into an enemy over it.

And still he trudged on, into the Infirmary, right towards a large steamer trunk set on it's end in the far corner of the waiting room with it's door open and guarded by two Hit Wizards who nodded to them all as they when inside. And once in, Ron stumbled in amazement while Ginny simply gasped in surprise.

"What-"

"Not now, Mr. Weasley." McGonagall authoritatively remarked. "Please keep following, I'd hate to have you lost in here…You too Mr. Potter."

But what a place to get lost in. Ron's surprise lifted Harry out of his depression and slammed him into a world he never thought possibly existing within the Wizarding one. It was a Hospital, a very ultra-modern Hospital with metallic walls that bordered on the Futuristic with its numerous computerized technologies—very unusual for the Wizarding World. Harry paused gawking in surprise with Ron, over the holographic displays showing the by-to-the-moment well-being of those convalescing the numerous beds arranged before them on the other side of large rectangular glass windows, being attended to by Healers while spiderish contraptions hung over each bed from the ceiling—some with 'legs' folded up, while others had their 'legs' dangling and gripped by said Healers.

"V-very inter-resting." Hermione quipped with oblivious fascination. "Like Star Trek…"

Ron didn't jump at the sight of the spider-like ceiling contraptions, as Harry expected, given his fear of spiders.

"W_ill all of you please follow?" _

The Professor's irritated voice snapped them quickly back in line, and together they strode past the Nurses' station where several young healers sat stationed before monitors Harry could only see from the corner of his eye as they past. Behind that station there was a long corridor that reminded Harry of a Museum's Office section, being very white, and clean and lit from the ceiling by numerous small lights. McGonagall strode forward purposely towards the large double doors, pausing only to open them before leading them into the massive room beyond. Harry had been in Auditoriums before, the regular assemblies during his Primary school days always occurred in the old Assembly Hall whose ancient brick and metal structure was often pushed to its limits when crowded with the entire student body and staff.

But if Auditoriums were graded on their size, Harry figured this one was Circus Maximums sized. It wasn't so much an auditorium that a massive clam shaped arena full of deep blue seats and walls that sloped gently in rows towards a center stage that was gently lit by a single globe of light, hovering lazily high over head with many smaller globes that lit the entire room. And along the far back wall were a collection of grand antique brass and ivory mirrors, twenty in all, with an easily recognizable group standing before the fifth one.

Umbridge, ever noticeable in pink, was speaking with her back to them with several Aurors clustered around her. Ron's face took on a very ugly shade of red as Hermione's face simply darkened at the sight. Harry's set his face with a very unfriendly frown as Ginny worriedly gripped his arm. And McGonagall quietly strode towards the group with them in tow, with out a care of what would occur…

"—Traumatic affair, so do be gentle with Mrs. Weasley—she's very important to us." Umbridge's voice became louder as they came closer. "Her Husband and remaining Son will be—"

"Helping her across." Boomed a commanding voice that brought Harry to a complete halt. "Yes, we know."

Dark skinned, tall with a commanding presence, Kingsley Shacklebolt had a voice that didn't need any kind of amplification, all he had to do was speak in louder volumes and anyone on the far side of any large room could easily hear him. The closer they came, Harry could now see him as two of Umbridge's Aurors' moved slightly aside, along with a stoic Moody, Remus Lupin, looking very much starved and worn frowning downward with oblivious distaste while keeping a careful eye on the proceedings before him.

"So, I ask again." Doc's voice came from the center of the gathering, "_why are you here?_"

"Well, it's plainly oblivious that she has been victimized!" Umbridge firmly put out. "And also possible that it was done by a Death Eater during an attempt to place her under an Imperious Curse!"

Ron suddenly inhaled a lungful of air. He was going to yell something back, something loud and very rude when McGonagall swung her right hand back hitting him in the stomach-- causing him instead to bark and gasp in surprise before succumbing to a coughing fit that made them the center of everyone's attention.

Aurors shifted around, but the center ones found themselves pushed aside by a very curious Umbridge. This scattering also gave an excellent view of a very disgruntle Doc and Dolly. And Dolly had one hand on the pistol tucked in her waist, and the other on a holstered pistol…

"What is the meaning of this? Why are _you_ here?" Umbridge's demand fell just short of anger. But when seeing those with McGonagall, it became anger. "And what are _they_ doing here?"

"Why Dolores, Mr. and Miss. Weasley hasn't seen their dear Mother in months." McGonagall smoothly began. "And Mr. Potter is like another son to her. So I figured—"

"You did not ask or file the proper permission with me." Umbridge angrily barked back, gripping her wand in a very ready manner. "All Mirrorgate access is under my direct and unconditional supervision, you simp--"

There was more, but it was cut off by Moody.

"Under whose absolute authority?" he loudly asked.

Umbridge spun, right into a remark from Dolly; "This is American soil, in the diplomatic sense--"

"I've received no notice from Ambassador Bone concerning such _agreements_." Doc confoundedly added.

"You remember him, don't ya?" Dolly, smiling, quickly got in. "He was the one you tried shooting in the back on board the Train…Remember?"

She motioned to Umbridge's still bandaged hand.

"Nor I am, as the Head Auror on site, aware of any Ministry agreements with the American Bureau that allow us such broad control.' Shacklebolt frowned downwardly at Umbridge. "Or you for that matter."

Lupin smiled, and nodded to Harry when finally noticing him there.

"Under the Special Protocols, of course." Umbridge astonishedly choked back. "As you should very well know, Shacklebolt, all high-ranking officials of the Ministry have the authority—"

"You're all staying." McGonagall lazily said to Harry Hermione, Ginny and Ron, now recovering from his coughing fit. But loud enough for everyone to hear, even Umbridge.

"_They are leaving!_" She determinedly shouted back, pointing with a shaking finger towards the door. "And don't you ever believe you'll get away with mocking my authority, or assaulting me! You're time is just about up here, McGonagall. And I'll make very certain you're unable to hold another job as long as you live!"

There was something unreal about what was occurring before him. Umbridge was always careful with her outward image whenever around others, and would certainly be around Shacklebolt—who'd easily report this behavior to whoever would listen. But here she was, becoming more and uglier with anger with each passing moment. Even the Aurors that were with her began stepping back from her during this display. Harry was puzzled as much as amused by Umbridge's ever increasing descent into absolute self-rigorousness while gesturing threateningly with her wand and continually ranting about the 'Special Powers' and 'Authority' she could use against them as a Ministry Official.

Rules very similar to the ones Scrimgeour was citing to remain in office.

"She's nutters." Ginny whispered to Harry worriedly.

Harry grinned. But Umbridge saw it.

"What did she say?" Umbridge screeched. "What did she tell you, Potter!"

It was instinct that made Ron move to protect his sister. It was also instinct that made Harry place himself directly between Umbridge and Ginny, and stand his ground with complete defiance towards Umbridge.

"That's none of your business!" He barked back. "Nor do you have any right to dominate over this place."

Umbridge's face exploded with surprise that quickly became vivid anger, even more pronounced than Uncle Vernon's. Her wide toadish face became a vivid red as her mouth opened to it's widest to yell back at him, but only strangling sounds emerged because her tongue swelled up so plump and large it prevented the words she wanted so badly to yell from ever coming out. And as her entire body shook with a mighty rage, even her wand shook wildly in all directions in her hand.

"So we're staying." McGonagall simply concluded to them all.

Right about then Harry realized why Umbridge was acting so out of her normal character; there was Dolly mumbling quietly while staring at Umbridge—in the same manner, as described to him, as Snape had during that very first Quidditch match. It took a lot to keep from smiling back, especially at imagining what Umbridge would be feeling at finding herself being cursed in such a manner.

So he kept himself and Ginny in very close check, to keep Dolly from getting into serious trouble.

Then, a dull ring came from the middle mirror.

"They're coming through." Doc announced before heading towards the mirror in question.

The Mirrors he went through never made a sound, but then Harry realized that those were driven through by Tamm. These were going to be different, and the one such displayed this when its mirrored face faded away to reveal the Weasley's as they were about to step through. Molly Weasley, in spite her Husband on her left and George on the right, appeared quite hesitant to continue forward even though she could easily see what lay beyond the threshold. Mr. Weasley was gently talking to her, coxing her to continue. George wasn't saying anything, which was best at the moment, but his mother still appeared unsure.

Harry started forward, followed closely. Ron soon followed suit. McGonagall didn't stop them as she too strode forward. But not to the Mirrorgate, to Umbridge—who was now realizing what was going on. She turned haphazardly, her wand moving into play with the full intent of attacking anyone behind her…

Dolly had the big revolver out of her pants instantly. The cocking of its hammer stopped Umbridge in quarter turn, making her notice how it was aimed and giving her no hope that the shot would miss.

"You're refusal to give up is admirable, but your behavior and character are utterly repulsive." McGonagall frowned, while taking Umbridge's pink wand away from her.

Umbridge's face became red from the anger as she glared at Dolly and her gun, but she said nothing as her Auror guard was hesitant to act on her behalf—especially after what they'd seen from her.

At this moment behind them, the Weasley's finally stepped through the Mirrorgate.

"My…Word!" Mrs. Wesley exclaimed with a great intake of breath, after stepping through.

"Certainly beats Appariting." George commented with a grin.

People moved around Mrs. Weasley as she recovered from the shock. Some she knew as old friends, others were strangers that needed to be introduced. It was all quite an experience for her, but they were quite polite and respectful to her and her present condition. Even Harry and Ron, who stood back while Ginny embraced her Mother for the first time in months asking her if she was alright. There was even a squad of Aurors emerging through the Mirrorgate right behind them.

"Just, just a little…startled, dear." Mrs. Weasley smiled down at her daughter, while gently stroking her hair. "Have you been well, as well?"

Ginny smiled back at that, then stepped aside as her mother address Harry in a very apologetic manner. "Harry…Please, I'm sorry for all that you've gone through at the Ministry…I wasn't myself then."

Mr. Weasley realized something, and dug immediately into the pocket of his robes, letting go of his wife's arm at that moment.

"It's alright." Harry smiled back, noticing Mr. Weasley handing a scroll to Shacklebolt. "I'm certain things will turn out for the better."

"It would have been better had you cooperated, Potter!" Umbridge suddenly shouted at them. "All the Ministry wanted was your help in dealing with the Dark Lord. But instead, you were defiant! _Insolent!_"

Harry ignored Umbridge, though a part of him tore away at his insides wanting to fire off a choice response of its own. But Mrs. Weasley couldn't. Her pleasant face twisted up into a mask of clear anger once she realized who it was that yelled, and charged off towards Umbridge at once with Ginny and George hanging on trying to slow her down before the others caught up with her.

"_How dare you!_" Mrs. Weasley roared as they held her back. "_How dare you use the Imperious Curse upon innocent people!_"

Umbridge simply frowned bitterly back, defiant, or completely oblivious, towards to coming onslaught of Mrs. Weasley. "In these dark times, the Ministry does what it can to protect the citizens of the Land from all clear and present dan—"

Mrs. Weasley lunged forward when close, swiping intentionally at Umbridge's face with her fingernails out and ready. She wasn't close enough to rake flesh, but it was close enough for Umbridge to finally call for her Aurors to protect her and arrest Mrs. Weasley for assault. The point was utterly moot though since everyone there was busy keeping the two women apart, with the exception of Shacklebolt. He moved swiftly between both groups, and with his mighty voice called out; "_ORDER!! ORDER HERE NOW!!_"

That Voice penetrated everywhere, grabbing and holding everyone's attention quickly. And not a word of protest was raised as he sternly gazed over both groups before turning to Umbridge while raising the scroll to read from it.

"Delores Umbridge." He began, "By direct order of the Wizengamot, you are hear-by ordered to return at once to the Ministry in London."

Umbridge looked as if she'd been punched in the face. "What!!" she warbled out. "That is not—"

"There have been numerous reports of magical abuse filed against you," Shacklebolt loudly continued, "especially with regards with the current condition of one Hermione Granger and the attempted assault upon the American Ambassador while aboard the Hogwarts Express."

Umbridge just stared back in open mouth shock. It was an image Harry wanted burned into his memory.

"It's all here." Shacklebolt concluded, handing the scroll to her. "You may read it if you like. But for now, you are to return to London."

Harry had a good look at the scroll before Umbridge snatched it from Shacklebolt's hand; it was a light gray with dark trim, bearing the official crest of the Ministry.

"This is a fake! An absolute fake!" Umbridge strongly insisted as she read the parchment back, before trying to rip the scroll apart. "You think you are truly clever, Kingsley Shacklebolt, but this is not going far."

"Oh it will." Mr. Weasley heatedly yelled back. "For what you did to my wife and son and Ms Granger, and what you almost did to Ambassador Bone onboard the Express, I see this going very far indeed!"

"Apparently, _you have_ forgotten how you hand gotten injured that night." Dolly added, wiggling her pistol.

Umbridge wasn't down yet. She reared up to yell back, but at Shacklebolt's composed nod the recently arrived Aurors moved towards Umbridge with some that had already been there. They surrounded and grasped her by the arms as they started pushing and pulling her, despite her loud protests, in a path around those keeping Mrs. Weasley restrained towards the Mirrorgates.

"No! Release me at once! I order you as an Official of the Ministry of Magic to release me this instant, and arrest those back there! This is a hoax they've perpetrated against me!!" She fought, surprisingly for a woman of her small statute, making it difficult for the Aurors around her to get her through the Mirrorgate in some reasonable fashion. Finally they just resorted to carrying her through the Mirrorgate, kicking and screaming all the way. "_NO!! STOP THIS!! STOP THIS AT ONCE AND ARREST—NOOOOOOOOO!!"_

With a coordinated push, holding her arms and legs away from the framework, they finally got her through. And when the last one passed through, the mirror's surface shimmered briefly before returning to its mirrored self.

"_Je-sus!_" Dolly exclaimed. "Talk about not wanting to leave."

"Delores Umbridge has been charged with violating many statues of Wizarding Law. "Shacklebolt directly addressed her. "Several occurring from the opportunities Scrimgeour gave her as 'Official Ministry Overseer', and as the High Inquisitor under Fudge. Just to name a few."

"Glad it wasn't me." Dolly grinned back.

"So…is she gone...for good?" Ginny wondered aloud.

"If not, I'll kiss Malfory on the lips." Ron openly stated.

"You'll do nothing of the sort, Ronald Weasley!" His mother quickly admonished, causing chuckles to echo in the room.

But Shacklebolt didn't join in. He was gazing at the Mirrorgate Umbridge was taken through with a hint of worry on his face.

"I wish I could say 'yes'." He quietly replied. "But I'm not certain."

There was spare room in the Teachers Wing; a nice apartment well furnished and set aside for the Weasley's use since returning to The Burrow was now out of the question for their safety. Of course, Mrs. Weasley was concerned about numerous things some related to irreplaceable valuables at their home (which her husband repeatedly told her were currently in storage), others involved the situation of the older sons Charley and Bill who were still not herd from, and Fred in the Hospital.

Especially Fred…

"It's in the hands of the Specialists right now." Doc explained to her in the sitting room of the apartment. "What they say we'll have to go with. But in any case, it will be a long time before he'll improve."

It wasn't what Mrs. Weasley wanted to hear, but she thanked him just the same for helping Fred as best as he could right after the accident happened. As he left, with McGonagall and Dolly, Ron started after him. Harry wasn't sure what Ron was going to do, but followed after leaving the Apartment to where Ron had caught up with the Doctor in the corridor outside.

"He has the right to ask." Doc sharply told McGonagall as he turned to face Ron. "And I'll answer as best as I can."

"It's not…that." Ron hesitantly began, taking all of them by surprise. "I just want to know if my Mum's going to be alright, that's all."

There was an understandable pause from Doc as he started to smile to Ron. "I see no permanent damage done to her. Though you may find her on occasion to be a little disorientated from time to time, she'll come through this with flying colors—as have you."

Ron nodded at that.

"If there are any problems," Doc told him, "just yell. Alright?"

"Alright." Ron nodded.

"I believe Harry has something to say to you." McGonagall then spoke. "But since it's a private matter, we'll leave so he can."

Ron didn't react. As McGonagall said her good-byes, departing with Doc and Dolly in tow, Harry approached his friend carefully.

"You got something to say?" Ron coolly asked.

"Been trying to say it since that argument we had." Harry directly answered him. "You haven't been giving me much of a chance to."

"Yea?" Ron answered.

"Yea." Harry replied. And let it all out. "It was a damn stupid argument…Damn stupid. I should have been more careful…with what I was saying."

Harry didn't want to lay the blame entirely on Ron. Yes, his stubbornness did contribute to what occurred. But Harry knew he personally didn't help matters very much by siding so quickly against Ron on the matter. He should have been more in control of himself, especially with what he said and how he had said it.

Therefore, Harry felt it was best to shift the blame onto him self. And not pummel Ron over it anymore.

"I simply allowed our imaginations to rule over our common sense." He continued. "Really…It was very stupid of me."

Ron regarded Harry in an odd sort of silence that didn't readily reveal what he was thinking or feeling towards Harry at the moment. Thoughts were racing through Harry's mind as to what to say next, preferably something not so sappy as to drive Ron away…

When he found something, that he felt would really work, Ron suddenly spoke up; "Harry, you're a terrible liar."

Harry blinked.

"A good friend," Ron continued, "but a terrible liar—from what Lee was able to tell me when I talked to him."

"Lee?" Harry finally said, not sure of what was going on.

"Yea, Lee." Ron nodded. "You know him, all stretched out in his bed like an old man…"

Harry nodded.

"He and I been talking, when it was my turn to sit with him." Ron explained. "You forgot he was lying there when we had that argument."

Harry nodded again. He had forgotten…That's why Doc was there as well.

"Well, anyway, I was right mad over the bloody thing when he ups and tells me that _we both_ were wrong." Ron continued. "I forgot what he called it, but it had to do with assuming that things were alright because Umbridge hadn't realized what was going on with the visits and such. Lee said we could have easily exposed ourselves, and everything, by our initial actions even if Umbridge hadn't done anything to the First Years to make them spy on us as we figured."

Harry just stared, not for the surprising clarity of Ron's words but for the logic he used in explaining the matter out. It was as if something of Hermione's own logical sense had somehow gotten into his brain, and now he was able to see things as she always had.

Quite starling to see.

"Lee figures if we hadn't had the argument, right about now Umbridge would have been granted free reign over Hogwarts—Wizengamot or not." Ron concluded. "So, things worked out for the best there…You see, Harry."

"Yea, yea...right Ron." Harry nodded.

Ron settled against the wall regarding Harry now with a sad sort of smile that lasted for several moments before speaking again.

"I was mad you know." Ron began, "Umbridge…Well hell, Harry, and you know what that bitch did— especially to Hermione…"

"Yes." Harry replied, nodding.

"Hope they pitch her into Azkaban with the rest of that fucking lot." Ron angrily frowned. But after a few moments, his face lightened with a clear smirk. "Then they'd never be able to keep the Dementors there…It would be too cruel to punish them in that way."

Harry himself found it hard to suppress a smile at that. But right now, Ron was simply getting it all out of his system. And Harry didn't want to interfere with that.

"We've been mates for a long time, haven't we?" Ron then asked.

"Since that first time on the Hogwarts Express." Harry answered. "You poked your head into the train compartment wondering if you could come in because—"

"There was no room anywhere else for me to sit." Ron concluded with a broad smile. "And then you went up and bought everything the Treat Lady had on her trolley."

"Because you hated Corned Beef." Harry then added. "And the sandwiches your Mother gave you were dried out."

Ron nodded wistfully at that, before slowly falling into a state of worried reluctance. There was more, he just didn't know how to get it out. Harry didn't say anything, nor did he prompt Ron into speaking.

He'd just let his friend work it out.

"I haven't been myself, I know." Ron finally broke the silence. "Knowing that you've spent most of the summer under an Imperious Curse just to keep your best mate in line isn't pleasant knowing, you know. Double, since it was done and you didn't have a chance to fight back.

"And Hermione can't go back to London, nor can she ever go back to her relatives because of the Please-men still want to 'talk' with her about her parent's murder. Do you think she'd stand a chance with them, Harry?"

Harry hadn't really thought about that in a long time. Just like his own relatives, who were somewhere around, the Police weren't going to give up on Hermione nor would her relatives protect her. They'd more likely shunt her into Prison or an institution if she told them she was a Witch.

"No." Harry honestly answered. "No more than my relatives would receive."

"Yea, Ginny told me they were on the train. Must have been quite a go."

"I like to not talk about them, Ron."

"Who would?" Ron smiled back. "Being all mean to you as they were. Hell, Harry, I must have been the first real friend you really had."

There had been others well before Ron. Dudley made sure they didn't stay around for long. But Ron was right, he was the first real friend he ever had—and the first person outside of Hagrid to really show him what Magic was all about. He really couldn't forget that.

"Harry…"

Harry blinked in surprise.

"Let's…Just forget about it…" Ron said.

He was starting to smile. But Harry himself was still surprised.

"Forget?"

"Yea, forget." Ron smiled while gesturing with his hands. "As in it was stupid, and we now know better."

But Harry was still sluggish to grasp the suggestion.

"Aw, come on Harry. We've been mates for too long just to piss it all over some stupid argument.—right!"

"Right!" Harry finally banished the fog from this mind with the exclamation, because Ron was right—their friendship wasn't worth throwing it all away over a stupid argument.

Not at all.

"Now come on, Harry." Ron said while steering Harry towards the apartment door. "I know Mum would like to see you too…She's got's lots of questions to ask you about what you and the rest of my family were doing over the summer."

15


	44. Chapter 44

Chapter Forty-four

Chapter Forty-four

The Start of Term.

The effect of Umbridge's departure upon the student body was incredible; now allowed to roam the halls and library, the students wasted little time in really acquainting themselves with Hogwarts—but never too far away from the watchful eyes of Aurors from several lands.

Including Bureau Agent Barnabus.

There was something very odd about the oriental and the way he had of being just about everywhere, almost as if he was able to defeat the Apparition Barriers around the School. His presence, even at a distance gave most students, instructors and several Aurors and Hit Wizards a really serious case of the nerves. Even Fitch was noticeably agitated. Neither he nor Mrs. Norris would stay in the same room or get within the length of a Quiddich Pitch of him—leaving many to openly wonder what '_He_' was. Some even considered him being an actual Dementor that was somehow disguised in human form, which was expanded upon by Luna Lovegood pointing out reports from the Quibbler of highly unusual magical experiments occurring in secret American locations.

"Father himself went over, and just barely returned with proof of what they were doing over there." She casually explained over lunch in the Great Hall to several very eagerly interested younger students, and some older ones, like George, Ron and Neville, who were listening in. "But, as he arrived in London, it mysteriously vanished from his personal office—and he hasn't been able to find them since."

"Probably buried under a whole lot of other useless rot." Ron snickered quietly out of the corner of his mouth to Harry's ear, as they were eating with Hermione near by.

Harry had a time keeping from spewing out the portion of meat pie he just put in his mouth, but it was the least of his concerns. Another aspect of Umbridge's removal was the return of the Owl Post and the Students own Owls, those that survived that September night's events on the Hogwarts Express at least. But every so often, a student would get a letter that had already been opened before they could open it.

Packages were the most violated, with their wrappings hastily placed back together and their contents rudely disorganized. Or simply missing, as the note from the Aurors' Office explained it; _'Items in question were deemed suspicious, and therefore confiscated under Section 347.127.377AGZ of the Securities and Protection Stature of the National Protection Act.' _There was a written promise to return said items, once they were declared 'safe' by those in charge of determining such. On the outside it appeared to be fine, but the items taken, like toothpaste, small bottles of perfume, combs and brushes, deodorant and soaps, pocket knives, Remembrall's, special Quill and Ink Sets, sewing kits, medications, and most of all tins of Cookies and Sweets, tended to raise open concern amongst the students (as especially in the case of the cookies and sweets) over the fact that the Aurors were simply keeping the items for their own use.

There wasn't a single day an Auror wasn't pestered for information regarding the return of these items sent by their parents. Always they were told that it was for their own good, and they should trust the Ministry to handle their safety. Harry couldn't believe the times he overheard that very response being given to the students as the reason why.

But the one most identifiable item they all could get their hands on was news from the outside world. The Daily Prophet, The Quibbler, and any other publication, no matter how small and weather or not it was from afar were showing up in eager student hands faster than they could be stopped. And it was easy to see why; Scrimgeour was still battling away to save what little remained of his integrity and stature in the face of numerous votes of 'No Confidence' from many countries. Pictures of him arguing and denouncing his critics with gyrating arms and pointing fingers were plentiful in addition after addition, but what was sorely lacking were enough votes to completely remove him and his entire Cabinet from power. This was something that even had George scratching his head in absolute disbelief.

"They want the bastard and his lot gone, but cannot come to an agreement on how to do it because of the lack of votes amongst the Parliament Body?" He simply exclaimed one warm Thursday afternoon in the Gryffindor Common Room after reading the particular story. "Why wait? Storm the Ministry and lynch them all!"

That brought a rousing cheer out of Ron as it brought a gasp of shock from Hermione. Even Ginny was amazed, but kept quiet just the same, as did many of the students present. But there were others who added their own comments in, and that lasted, arguments and all, well into the following day. For once, Harry didn't mind having to tend to Lee for a night.

There was another matter bothering him. And when Madame Pomfrey came to check up on Lee, Harry asked; "Have you seen any Slytherins out and about lately?"

"A few, if I'm fortunate." She replied while checking Lee's temperature. "Usually it's Crabbe and Goyle, and you've never seen two lost people in your entire life. There really aren't that many here at all, judging from the number of Family physicians who tend to them."

She took the thermometer from Lee's mouth, and while reading the temperature ask; "Are you expecting to see, or wondering if Draco Malfoy is here?"

"If Crabbe and Goyle are around, he's not too far away." Harry easily answered.

Why lie about it? Harry wanted to know if his best enemy had the nerve to even come back to the school. And since the night of Dumbledore's death, he even wondered if Draco was even alive. Voldermort had no love for weaklings. If he could tell the lie from the truth, then Malfoy was probably lying face down dead somewhere and rotting away for his failure to kill Dumbledore when he had the chance. It was the kindest thing Harry could think of happening to him…

Unless Snape managed to save his life.

"Those two are actually quite intelligent." Pomfrey replied, now mixing together a small potion on the bedside table next to Lee's head. "Surprising, I know. But they're reluctant to speak first most of the time."

"Usually they crack their knuckles and glare at people." Lee added. "Their size makes them formable."

"No, they're formable because they know how to intimidate people." Pomfrey replied, concentrating on her mixing. "You can be surprised how many formable appearing people cannot do that at all."

It was a very interesting fact Harry especially put away in his memory. Perhaps the next time he ran into them, he'd surprise them by not falling for their imposing front. He could practice on the Dursley's. Without fail, he'd run into them several times a day, either in the halls or out on the grounds. They'd always do their best to ignore his presence, even when the Aurors and hapless Ministry officials pointed him out to them or called Harry over to meet with them.

Except Dudley. Granted, they all were resentful at their current predicament. And if they even tried making a run for Muggle civilization, the Police would not believe their tale of being kidnapped by 'Magical Weirdo's' who held them against their will, because they could be used against an equally weird magical relative. No, Harry knew the Police would either jail them as captured fugitives or jail them in a Sanitarium. And no doubt, both Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia knew it too. Dudley, apparently, was of a different mind.

His expression was flat, always flat. Unusual in any sense. Harry was expecting him to wail and whine because they didn't have television, video games, or able to have his way at Hogwarts. Instead, he was silent. And would gaze upon Harry with a subtle darkness he could quickly hide away without it being noticed by anyone. If Dudley was intimidating him, Harry figured, it was a very unusual way of doing it. As if he actually had an intelligence working away in his brain.

The though was surprising, but Harry wasn't given much of a chance of working it out. The Start of Term was drawing rapidly nearer and nearer. And often, when not explaining for the forgotten time how things worked at Hogwarts to the novice students, he was often called before representatives of various nations who needed his advice and input on plans they had for dealing with Voldermort. Given how badly Scrimgeour and the British Ministry failed at even doing the slightest thing, the rest of the Wizarding World simply stepped right into the mess to deal with it.

While Harry was sympathetic, told them all that he dared say. But as things went along it appeared that the only thing getting done was a lot of talking amongst the representatives, followed by the dispatching of messages to their respective Ministries and then having more meetings where the process was repeated. After the tenth time, Harry could do nothing more than endure. After the thirtieth, he wondered if befriending Crabbe and Goyle was more preferable to attending the Thirty-first meeting.

The coming start of term gave Harry something to look forward to. At least then, he would be deep in lessons, which were bound to be radically different this year due to Voldermort'. He practiced what little he knew of Occlumency with his immediate friends and all he knew of Patronuns with Lupin, now with a small office of his own near the Gryffindor Tower. The Werewolf Professor was grateful for Harry's company, and did his best to help him, but was often not focused on the task of teaching and prone to despair almost constantly.

"I'm…sorry Harry…I've been through a lot, and I've still haven't gotten comfortable with my freedom yet." Lupin smiled in his apology. Harry didn't argue or complain, and got away with being very understanding to his instructor's plight. But it was Tonks was where his mind was. It was easy to figure. Harry didn't press the matter, but pushed himself to do something for his Father's friend…

What could he do? Escape to Hogsmead would only get him captured by the Aurors there. And if he spoke of the reasons why, Tonks herself may be placed in grave danger because of it.

The Invisibility Cloak, he realized, after one gloomy session, during the walk back to Gryffindor Tower, if he had it there was no place where he could go and not be stopped. It, like most of his things, were currently in the hands of the Ministry—possibly squirreled away by either Scrimgeour or Umbridge just after they captured him that very June.

What was he going to do? It was frustrating not being able to do anything to help anyone, and constantly being called upon by those who couldn't do anything at all. In anger, he simply marched into the Gryffindor Common Room and right up the stairs to his dorm room. No one called out to him; no one probably bothered noticing him in the rush to be ready for the start of term. He didn't bother wondering, he didn't care. But the room was empty when he angrily shoved the door open...

And there on his bed was a pillow-sized package with a simple note attached, written out hurriedly…

Harry,

Sorry about not being able to see you sooner, it was either Umbridge taking offence at my presence or McGonagall sending me off to wherever. But anyway, here's your stuff, taken fresh from the Ministry.

Just please do not get into trouble between the time you get this package and the start of School. It's tempting, but please mind—and remember everything we did over the summer, it's going to come into play really soon.

Talk to you later.

J.

It took Harry only moments to figure out what there was in the package. The Invisibility Cloak felt soft and spongy in his hands, though he couldn't see if it really was in his hand—outside of the second smaller note that was taped to it…

**Harry,**

**Replace the Silver Clips with the Green ones in the bag. You don't need killing anyone accidentally.**

They were there; each easily recognizable all bundled together with rubber bands—colored Green.

Stun Rounds. Non-fatal, even at point blank range.

Harry glanced at where the watch was on his arm and shivered slightly at the thought of having to use it that way with the Silver Clip still in place.

_I wish to have had the ability to speak with Harry when I dropped his cloak off to him. It's rather chicken to be a 'thief in the night'. But, as it always is, there were very important matters to deal with._

_Horcurxes. Those charming little bits of Voldermort's soul that prevent us from ever banishing him from life for good. It was through McGonagall that my understanding of what was going on became clearer, more so than from what Harry told me months before—largely due to facts Dumbledore kept to himself._

_He wasn't being mean, of course. These were matters that would have surely shoved Harry right off this mortal coil had he tried acting on them alone. Dumbledore kept that information to himself while watching Harry mature both mentally and magically, only giving out necessary clues whenever he felt Harry had sufficiently advanced enough to handle it. Unfortunately, events played themselves out in a very regrettable way—but not entirely unexpected…_

"_Snape," began the picture image of Dumbledore, "had found himself bound by an Unbreakable Vow, administered by Narcissa Malfoy, as the means of protecting her only child from Riddle's wraith. She knew very well that Draco was no killer of Men, in spite his bragging, and was only given the task for the failure of his father to properly protect the Dairy he was entrusted with."_

_The Portrait, like the many others that covered the walls of the Office, contained the only remnant of the person who has passed on; The Character. Memory is included, but The Character defines the person in question. It enables the present to easily converse with the past without the highly frowned upon need to contact the dead directly._

"_But then, that's possibly why Draco was given the task of killing me." Dumbledore concluded. "Riddle was not one to do ghastly acts without receiving some measure of enjoyment from it."_

_In this case, watching the effect it would have on his family. That places him in the league of vile dictators without argument. Dumbledore, on the other hand, was one of the most flexible people I've ever encountered. Having his foremost agent placed in such a situation, he didn't fret or worry about what it would lead to. He simply tried making the best of the matter, as best as he could, all the way to the very end. Weather or not he could have broken down Draco, as the younger stood poised with wand in hand over him, before the arrival of the other Death Eaters who certainly would have killed them both for the praise it would have gotten from their Master for it, had it not been for Snape's timely arrival, even he couldn't say. But what he could say about what remained of the task at hand was quite lengthy. _

"_It's all a matter of security." Dumbledore continued. "If he had made his Horcurxes from common things, there would have been no amount of hesitation in their destruction. But in making them from items with significant historic value, there will be hesitation in their destruction because such would be paramount to murder."_

"_Clever." I commented._

"_He's among Hogwarts' best." McGonagall dryly added. _

"_I'm afraid that there was extremely little that could have been done back then to change him away from what he's become." Dumbledore's picture sadly lamented. _

_But, there were things that could still be done to stop Voldermort' for good._

_In the year before his death, Dumbledore sought out the existence of the remaining Horcurxes—first by working his theory, then by practicing it bay traveling to where his theories lead him. The first success was the Gaunt Family ring, said to have been worn by their most famous direct ancestor; Salazar Slytherin, hidden amongst the decayed ruins of the Gaunt home. Unfortunately, when he tried to destroy it, it exacted a nasty toll on him in both body and spirit before finally being destroyed. All of this, and many more possibly trails, he dutifully saved in his Pensive, which he asked McGonagall to let me use after I had rested from the events of the day._

_And he saved everything… _

_I saw the relationship between student and Headmaster grow from the simple to the increasingly complex as the reality of what he was facing began changing Harry from clueless kid to what he is now. I watched his sadness, his violent frustration, his concern. I sat in on the trials, watching many Death Eaters sent away to what was to have been a lifetime of isolation spent in horrible degradation. I watched friends die, and former enemies plead fearfully for protection and forgiveness from their horrible crimes. Many times, I felt like a creepy peeping tom during the more intense memories, angry with the petty bureaucrats who deliberately went out of their way to deny the danger that was approaching…_

_And utterly stunned about Snape._

_It's rare for me to want to drop a task and just run for it upon realizing its full dimensions. I don't consider cutting and running to be cowardly; actually it's a survival trait of mine. But this matter that I was in wasn't by any means simple, it ran with the complexity of the finest Swiss watch ever onward towards one of only two outcomes._

_And with my friends firmly meshed amongst its gears, they, as I, would remain part of Fate's Machine until they were needed no more. To abandon them there, after placing them there, was no better than cold-blooded murder. No, I wasn't that sort of person. I'll stick with it, all the way to the end._

_Therefore, I could not run away._

_Getting past that, planning became easier. Harry mentioned about the late Mundungus Fletcher saying that 'the locket was at Borgin & Burkes. He also mentioned the magical nastiness also stored there, but for certain a lot of it was gathered up in the Ministry Raids on Olden Town while Harry was in their hands. _

_Of course, the worse would have been better hidden. _

_After touching base with a few of that worlds' notables during those two weeks, I paid what remained of Borgin and Burkes a visit. A lot can be said about how effective the Ministry currently is in face-to-face battle, but what they can do when tearing a place apart physically would certainly leave most governmental agencies utterly shame-faced. From appearances, the entire inside of the building that housed the shop was ripped to pieces; gaping holes in the floor that lead instantly down to an extensive basement area filled with shattered display cases and smashed in cabinets—all of which glowed a very dangerous red residue through my Glasses—yielding nothing in the way of clues to what they once contained. Up above, once climbing up a shattered staircase (a hover charm would have been nice, gotta talk to Sky about one), walls with man-sized holes punched through them, more torn apart displays and cabinets, and what must have been a kitchen, awaited my presence. In fact, four whole floors of nothing but torn apart rooms and other furnishings scattered all over the place awaited me. _

_But all of this was done to what could be quickly reached, not to where things could be safely hidden. There's a difference you see, and that's where imagination comes in._

_The walls were the closest the Ministry ever came to such, pictures too. But the items that were most likely Horcurxes would be small items, easily carryable items that largely would escape notice. Cups and Lockets, and anything else that would just lie around in the open. Of course, the Ministry brushed everything to the floor and left it there where it could be stomped on. And much of it was; cheap metal rings and necklaces with glass diamonds, hair combs, pocket knives, lockets (but nothing like what I was looking for), even cloth dolls lying contorted upon the floor._

_If it was here, the Ministry has it—if it was here._

_I departed Borgin &Burkes with the same Time-Stop I used to walk past the Aurors on duty outside, and walked the rest of the way through the deserted Diagon Alley back to London. Meetings and telephone calls to all my contacts, those still around, yielded some clues that turned into dead-ends. And actual list of what was taken from the place by the Ministry was still being formulated, where exactly no body knew. So I sent Bone a letter explaining what I was doing. He was in better position to get it than I was, if news reports were true, and returned less than triumphantly back to Hogwarts by Mirrorgate—sending a message to McGonagall before retiring to a small waiting area of Doc's Tardis for rest._

_I wanted another go at Dumbledore's Pensive. There may have been things I missed amongst the memories, and I needed to know more about Riddle and his followers. But when I awoke from my rest, I found a note waiting for me…_

_Glad you have returned…_

_Tonight is the Start of Term. It will occur at ten this evening in the Great Hall, and you are invited to attend._

_Then afterward, well meet with Albus._

_McGonagall._

_Well, I could hardly say no. But my current attire wouldn't fit in at such an event. _

_A quick trip through the Mirrorgate to the London Warehouse, and back to Fresno, enabled me to get my favorite tuxedo and be back again with less than an hour to go. Granted, robes are the preferred form of formal dress amongst the magical set. Mine are somewhere in storage, I've forgotten where…_

_But seriously, they're nothing compared to a good Tux._

_Never the less, the people whom I pass in the corridors on the way to the Great Hall look at me as if I'm walking around naked. They're all decked out like University Officials at Graduation, their robes all decked out with their badges, metals and colored ribbons indicating past exploits, achievements and present rank…_

_Maybe I should have worn a cape with the Tux. It could have helped me fit in better. There are a few here and their in rich velvet with long flowing capes that just touch the floor, but ruffled shirts are a bit tacky. There's nothing tacky about the Aurors and Hit Wizards keeping an icy watch over everything occurring just outside the Great Hall. Their hands ever close to their wands, carried in a low slung quick-draw fashion or in the cross-draw position like swords—or, if well practiced, drawn by their weak-hand to surprise any attacker thinking otherwise. Several of them eyed me as I showed my invite to those at the doors from McGonagall, and as one slips into the Hall itself with the paper._

_I try to be inconspicuous, smiling pleasantly and all that. But I just can't help figuring my odds of escape are while standing there. They weren't pretty, but it kept my mind active until the guard returned to the door._

"_Follow me." Said the Guard, who clearly didn't like me._

_He led me into the Great Hall, a part of the school I wasn't too well acquainted with. The hanging tapestries and assorted ornaments I assumed were special, but the brisk pace the Guard moved at prevented any closer looks as we moved towards the raised stage where an immense table was situated. Where many others I recognized were, especially my companions._

_Sky, as I have known him, always leaned towards the grubby trailer-trash side of attire. Not that I razz him about it, he doesn't lean on me about my casual mundane attire at all so why should I tease him on his? But to see him there dressed at as Victorian-era dandy in velvet and ruffles, speaking with an assortment of other wizards, made me do a double take so powerfully it stopped me in my tracks and rub my eyes just to see if I wasn't hallucinating the sight._

_No, I wasn't. It was him in full._

_Behind him was Dolly, all dressed up like Annie Oakley with her bright long skirt and matching waist coat with a large red ribbon-tie, and cute cowboy hat tilted back on her head. And behind her was Doc. Not quite his normal grubby, but certainly not formal in tan jeans, shirt and tie. At least his hair was orderly, a very remarkable improvement. _

_But no McGonagall. Instead I was lead to another gathering occurring in front and just to the left of the main platform that was hosted by a child-sized wizard, standing a top a wide portable step latter as big as he naturally was. Bone was in this crowd, who after the Guard left, eyed me with clear curiosity._

"_Ah, Mr. Day," Bone broadly smiled, like a shark, "glad to see you finally made it."_

_I merely smiled while making a polite bow to them all._

"_He's here to instruct the Students on Law and Criminal Manners of the 'Muggle' World." Bone continued. "He's very well experienced in such matters, I assure you."_

"_Expertly…experienced." I smile back. Gotta hand it to Bone, he's quite creative with the titles. Serendipitous Entry though was better suited for describing thievery._

"_Just exactly what does that entail?" suddenly asked a squat wizard with a large bald head and larger walrus-like mustache, and a very interested look on his face._

_I haft to admit the question caught me off guard. I let it knock me just a little, just to cover the surprise and regain my wind._

"_Why, it would involve understanding legal and non-legal ramifications of actions taken by the Students in the Muggle World." I easily respond. "And also various means of dealing with magical traps and alarms through non-magical means."_

_I tried making it sound official enough for them. Some recoiled upon mention of 'non-magical means', clearly there were superiority issues with them, others looked oddly at me. But the Walrus casually remarked, "So, you're going to be teaching them breaking and entering?"_

_Bone just glanced surprisedly at me as I at him. And that's when Professor McGonagall arrived._

"_The Ceremony is almost about to start." She politely addressed us. "Gentlemen, would you please take your places."_

_The group parted almost in half. The majority followed Bone over to tables set along the left wall, while the Walrus and the tiny man headed towards the front platform—where Professor McGonagall indicated I should go as well._

"_As a Lead Instructor, you are granted the privilege of sitting at the Head Table." She explained, smiling to me. "And one more thing, Mr. Day."_

"_Yes?"_

"_A long robe would have gone will with your Tuxedo. Granted amongst Muggles, such may be very extravagant. But here, you would have fitted in better with it."_

_I also have a Top and Cane, but then they haven't seen use for a while. Taking the suggestion in stride, I follow the Professor to the front where she guides me to the richly ornamented, antiquated mahogany high-backed chair that's favored up here. To my left sits Sky, who gives my attire a very noncommittal silent looking over. Then he sighs shaking his head as he always does with me. Hagrid sits on the right, and he's quite nervous. Beneath the table on his lap his hands are twisting around one another in a rapid constant. He tries remaining calm, but he's loosing the battle._

_It's then that the doors at the far end are opened, allowing the dignitaries who were outside waiting the chance to come in. They file past the House Dining Tables that nearly run the length of the Hall's main floor, to sit in their assigned places along either wall. The rush isn't a madhouse, it's quite quick and orderly--surprising considering the number of people there are. _

_From that point onward the real business begins when McGonagall rises from the center chair at the Head table and openly addresses the visitors._

"_Greetings esteemed guests; I welcome you all to Hogwarts School of Magic and Witchcraft…"_

_The applause she receives is properly. While not roof-raising, it continues for some time as McGonagall modestly stands there smiling. Then she puts a hand up to silence it before speaking._

"_These are not the best of times for us all. We presently face perilous times that threaten our very existence, and have been woefully neglectful in dealing with the matter both swiftly and decisively. We have lost a good many brave, noble, and very courageous wizards and witches in this dark battle, including the esteemed Albus Dumbledore just moths before…"_

_She wavered at that point. It was a tragic loss no words could describe…_

_The room went silent. Nobody moved._

_Then, McGonagall gathered herself up and continued with firmer conviction than before._

"_But in our time of greatest need, many brave volunteers have stepped up to fill our ranks. Many of them foreign to our land. But they recognizing the danger Lord…Voldermort represents, and have come just the same to aid us, in spite the dangers, in the struggle against him. _

"_Some of these brave individuals may not appear to most as being of 'honorable character'. But, these knights in rusty armor have proven themselves very adequate to the task, and more. Risking even their lives in the protection of those vital to this struggle, making us all realize that by setting aside all differences and uniting we can and will defeat the menace of Lord Voldermort once and for all!"_

_If that didn't get them on their feet with rousing applause, I have no ideal what would. But they did, some at first. And soon they were joined by others, generating such a thunderous storm of applause I couldn't even hear myself think or clap just the same._

_McGonagall handled herself well. She was in a bad position, largely not her fault, but was both well aware of it and making the most of it. And after several minutes of applause and camera flashes, she once again raised her hand causing the hall to slowly become quiet again._

"_Now," she started, "it's time to bring in the students, whom a very great weight will be born upon their shoulders. These times will not be kind to any of us, young or old._

"_It is with them, our future lies."_

_With a subtle motion to a leather clad scarecrow standing at the main door, the man, Fitch I believe, opened the great doors as many in the room stood. Even those of us at the Head Table rose, including myself under Sky's careful gaze, as the students filed in. They were in awe, the younger ones that is, as can be expected from being the subject of such an event. Their older compatriots, much more reserved, followed them in and were all seated at the far left table that was decorated in blue and bronze as the guest clapped on. Then finally those I recognized entered heading to the next left table that was done in red and gold. Harry smiled and Ginny almost waved to us up at the Head table as they entered, and seated themselves at the table's front most point. George was at the very end, ushering along his little brother and Hermione before him. The next table, done in bright yellow and black, clearly had the most students who very nearly filled up every seat at that table—nearly double that of the first two tables combined._

_But the last table, of black and silver, had the fewest. Four younger students and at least six older ones, among which were two very lost looking muscle-heads and a much focused young man with wavy brown hair. We greeted them as the others, but in glancing over at Harry and Ginny (and Ron, Hermione, and George) there were some bitterly cold looks directed towards the few at that table—especially at the muscle-heads._

_Once all are seated, McGonagall draws the applause to a close so to speak again._

"_Due to events, those who were sent to a specific House will remain with that House for this present time. Others, who still remain in Hospital, will join their respective House upon their release. And now, I would like those who will be instructing Hogwarts' students to introduce themselves to all assembled here." _

_There were a lot of them, so much so that not all were up on the stage. Apparently we were the 'special' instructors, and waited our turn as some of those seated along the walls stood and gave a brief account of themselves and what they would be instructing the students in—which was mostly a lot of the same magic wise. There were a few willing to come out and say things like "Defensive Curses" and "Magical Counter-Attack tactics", and others who really made not a lick of sense but presented themselves properly just the same. _

_And then it became our turn up on stage. _

_I've never herd Sky speak in a civil manner, even before a large group of people. But he was highly eloquence with his words and addressed the assemblage in the same manner that McGonagall did, stating that he was responsible for the creation of a special training room where all that was taught would be put to the test…_

"_This Room is the best means of evaluating all situations that can arise out in the field." He explained. "And is highly reactive to whatever occurs within its boundaries, be it of magical or mundane origins."_

_A Danger Room. I could just imagine what's going to be thrown at the kids when they walk in there, so much so that I failed to realize that it was my turn to stand up and speak. It wasn't pretty, just pretty embarrassing. I stuck with what Bone described me as after giving my name, and sat down to modest applause. After Hagrid, who faired far better than me but stumbled likewise, Doc and Dolly stood together with Doc handling the explanations concerning emergency medical field procedures and poison avoidance—and introduced his wife as his assistant who will be teaching 'special' magical classes in 'Tonal Manipulation."_

_Hagrid simply grunted._

_I wanted a cigarette._

_The other three were the House Heads, along with McGonagall. Professors Flitwick (the tiny man), was Ravenclaw's Head and Charms master, Sprout, a short dumpy, woman in need of a really good hair care kit, was Hufflepuff's Head, and finally Slughorn—the Walrus, as head of both Slytherin House and Potions. At the very end, next to Slughorn, a tattered man with a very nervous manner. So much so that just to get him to rise required prompting from several on that end of the table and McGonagall, even Hagrid. But some of the students already knew him, especially Harry who was smiling widely._

"_I'm Remus Lupin." The man nervously spoke. "I will be teaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts class."_

_There was some applause, but there were also concerned murmurings among both the Guests and Students that threatened to become loud outbursts in seconds._

_McGonagall's face took on a very angry look as this started to occur. "I assure you all that all matters of Safety have been considered and are in place!" she barked back "And that Professor Lupin had fully earned the trust of Albus Dumbledore himself, and that is good enough for me to want him here."_

_It was as if she was daring someone to even try speaking up against it. Her commanding presence covered the Great Hall quite effectively, so much so that any voice of dissent was quashed. _

_Harry told me who Lupin was a long time back. He appeared reasonable and not reveling in what he could do, as others driven insane by the lycanthropy infection are known to do. But I couldn't keep from worrying about what would happen during the next full moon…_

_And that's exactly when something exploded right over our heads._

_The ceiling of the Great Hall reflects what's occurring outside and overhead, even with the hovering candles that provided light. But the flair flooded the entire room with such powerful intensity, even closing the eyes and turning away was no use. Sky was snapping of vile oaths, while I simply wished for a really good pair of sunglasses—currently sitting in Tamm's glove box. Once the explosive brightness went away, the sparkling emerald skull with a snake protruding from its mouth set off a panic in the Hall._

"_The Dark Mark." I herd Hagrid utter in shock._

_And in that instant, Harry, with his wand out, vanished. Followed soon after by George…_

_And finally, me._

_Jumping without clear direction is bad, and I only do it in extreme circumstances. Of course, sprawling myself allover the lawn was only a minor consequence, followed by the Aurors pouncing on me in droves._

_But in the distance, I could hear Harry yell, "The Whomping Willow! It's the only place!"_

_It would have been nice to have herd more. But the twelve odd Aurors who were now upon me felt it best to knock me out at that moment._

18


	45. Chapter 45

Chapter Forty-five

Chapter Forty-five

Odd Lunch.

It gave Harry an odd feeling to see Fawkes' perch with out the brilliant red phoenix perched upon it. But it was fleeting; becoming one more indicator that Dumbledore was really gone.

That forced him back into the reality of the Headmaster's Office, where Professor McGonagall was vividly tearing into the Lead Auror—On Site.

That man, tall, thick appearing, stood very patiently and very reservedly in the face of the near screaming on-slough from McGonagall simply waiting for a turn to speak. Of course, when overwhelmed with anger, McGonagall couldn't stop for even a moment until the anger was completely spent. And from past experiences, it wouldn't be for quite some time.

Which left Harry to wonder why was he there. Yes, they were all concerned for his safety. And Aspirating without thought to the Walloping Willow was considering foolish, even by his own admittance. But when the Dark Mark was fired off, brilliantly blinding as it was frightening, reason simply snapped with in Harry. He was enraged, insulted by the very nerve of the Death Eaters to do such an act—as well as the ineptness of the Aurors guarding Hogwarts on the outside. How could they have allowed such an act to occur, let alone allowed those who did it to escape so easily, while attacking Day when he followed. Granted, McGonagall was giving the man a goodly earful about what she felt about that. But while reflecting back upon the chaos of the moment and odd feeling of consideration started filling him.

_Was it because of my sudden appearance?_ Harry wondered.

As his mind slowly began presenting the evidence of his rashness, the details were indisputable; _HE _was out there, HEwas running around, yelling his head off—being distracting and making himself a target, _HE _was running head-long into danger on impulse…

It started making him feel worse and worse within.

Finally, McGonagall dismissed the Lead Auror-On Site. As his heavy foot falls towards the door were herd, McGonagall then turned to Harry.

"I suppose you have an explanation for what you did tonight?" She coolly asked.

Harry turned to face that unpleasantness, and spoke as best as he could muster. "I figured the Death Eaters used the secret passage that ran from the Shrieking Shack to the Walloping Willow to reach Hogwarts. It's the quickest way…Snape would have told them about it."

McGonagall regarded him very angrily, but didn't say anything for several moments.

"I suppose teaching you discretion should be first and foremost." She angrily remarked. "Had those who fired off the Dark Mark been willing to stay a little bit longer, they would have been more than willing to have tried killing you."

"And risk the wrath of their Master, Minerva? I hardly doubt it."

Dumbledore's portrait featured the former Headmaster as calm and relaxed as he was in real life, as he regarded those in the room carefully. "Voldermort' has claimed Harry as _his_. To upset _him _in such a manner would be a very grave mistake on their part."

"Never the less, it was very reckless of Potter to run out there." McGonagall responded to the portrait a little less angrily. "Brave or not, it would have been disastrous had he'd been harmed."

"Agreed." The portrait-Dumbledore nodded. "Just as reckless as it was to place blame upon Snape for the revealing of that secret tunnel. As you may recall Harry, Peter Pettigrew _also_ knew about that very tunnel."

Harry did, and it hit him very hard.

"But it doesn't matter, really." Dumbledore continued. "There are several that I can recall who also know of that tunnel."

Harry was startled by the surprise. _Others? _Well yes, there was Lupin who needed to use it when the Moon turned full, but whom else? He wanted to ask who, but Dumbledore by then had turned to McGonagall. "I assume it's now blocked?"

"There's a Guard standing at the portion here." McGonagall nodded. "Those in Hogsmead have the Shrieking Shack under heavy guard, and intend to start destroying the tunnel soon."

"Honestly, they could have Disapparated from the Tunnel and never reached the Shack. But, never the less." Dumbledore sighed. "I suppose Mr. Day is in the Infirmary?"

"He was taken straight there." McGonagall dutifully informed.

"I'll see if he's able for a visit." Dumbledore nodded. Then after a moment, addressed Harry, "Harry, please try to understand. Acting impulsively is the surest way of giving what Voldermort desires the most—you utterly unaware and unprepared. That, Harry, is the worst thing that can happen in these times. _Do not do it again_."

And he quickly moved left, departing from the portrait.

McGonagall sigh lowly as she stepped away from the now empty frame, and slowly turned to Harry. She looked old, even more so than she really was. Harry's mind was already in flux over what he'd been told one side clearly wanting action while the other insisted that he not be so impulsive.

_Trust Dumbledore. _That's what it always came down to, even in the worst of times.

"There is one more reason for your being here." McGonagall started explaining. Whatever it was as quite possibly more scolding, as Harry so figured. And all he could do about it was to stand there and take it in full, as punishment for his recklessness.

"In consideration of the effort and leadership abilities you have demonstrated in the past under adverse conditions." She began, "It has been decided by the Board of Governors to make you the House Head of Gryffindor House in this interim time.  
Harry just stood there before McGonagall, stupidfied from the shock.

_House Head…Me?_ Was all that ran thought his mind, even as McGonagall was standing at the desk apparently explaining things concerning the position. But after a while, she noticed quite clearly that Harry wasn't hearing a word…

"Potter," McGonagall sighed, "Go to bed."

Harry blinked. It brought him back to reality

"Please…It's been a long night. Just go to bed. I'll talk to you about it tomorrow evening after classes."

There were questions to ask, fighting diligently away in his mind and throat. But it was late, and if he asked all he'd get out of it would be an argument.

"Good night, Professor." He said instead, and hurried to the door.

The following day started with a lot of moaning, cursing and fumbling around for clothes, books and writing quills with parchment occurring exactly at six o'clock in the morning. Because that's when Nearly Headless Nick appeared to wake them all out of bed.

"Come on! Come on! The day awaits! It mustn't wait!" The Nobleman Ghost loudly exclaimed as they stumbled from their beds in alarm. "Yes, even you, Mr. Jordan! "Your Advanced Magical Applications class begins in an hour, and if you get a leg up you may have time for breakfast—_hurry up!_ "

Even when Harry put on his glasses, things remained murky until he managed to blink his eyes clear. It was Nick, floating authoritarianly above the floor looking at them all in the disapproving manner of a strict teacher. That is until he spotted Harry looking at him.

"Potter, I'm not lying about class time." He directly addressed Harry. "And it's a long wait till lunch…"

Then he smiled, "It's good to see you, Harry. Now I must be off."And left by quickly slipping through the floor.

No, Nick wasn't lying. There was a large announcement board in the Great Hall and several smaller ones on the dining tables themselves, each laying out the class-schedule for each of the students as separated by year. The first through fourth were to be taught the basics to intermediate, if they were clever and showed easy adaptability they would be quickly moved to the Advanced level. The fifth to seventh years were to be sent to the advanced class, and there was just enough time for them all to grab a few quick bites of breakfast before finding their way to their class rooms.

There, it started at once. The instructor for Harry's class in Advanced Magic, a short barrel-chested wizard with a coal black imperial moustache who spoke with a heavy German accent that was very cold to hear, made it all very plain and clear to them all. "Vot I will be techzing hyu iz not to be icknored, fer it may mien der differenze between living and dying. Thair iz no time to 'elp the laggards a-mungst hyu, unlezs zome of hyu are abell ter 'elp—but thatz entirelee up to hyu."

Once past the introduction, which all Harry caught, was 'Benz', the German rapidly launched into practical theory and practice that hardly anyone could pause from their parchments to see what diagrams were being drawn out on the board that tied in with what was being lectured on. More than once the sounds of ink bottles hitting the floor along with the snapping of quill points occurred, but the German plowed on heedlessly sometimes ignoring the fact that he was speaking in German for some of the time while ignoring it all.

"Oi! My hand!" Ron exclaimed after class in the corridor outside, waving his right hand as if he'd injured it. "It hurts so bad, I may never hold a quill again."

"T-t-the way y-you were…breaking tips." Hermione stammered in response. "Y-you ...w-w-wont have any…b-by t-the end of t-the day."

"I'm down to only two left. Hey Harry, can you loan me a spare?"

By lunch, Harry himself was down to only one quill which he fully intended to guard with his life—no matter who asked for it. But that wasn't what Dean wanted to ask him for outside the Great Hall.

"You have a pocket knife?"

Harry wondered what his friend wanted with the knife resting snugly in his pants pocket, but Dean easily explained the matter.

"It's to make a new tip for the quills. Neville remarked on how his Grandma made hers last by doing that when she was a student here."

"Why not fix it with a spell?" Harry wondered, reaching into his pocket.

"Because the teachers would think the student was making an Auto-Answer Quill out of it." Dean easily answered. "Apparently, they were just as strict then as they are now. Oh, by the way, you copied down the diagrams our first teacher made on the board."

As he handed over the knife, Harry admitted that he had only a few but they were so hurriedly drawn it would take him hours to figure out what he did.

"Don't worry about them, Mate." Dean smiled while taking the knife. "Shamus copied what that wizard drew out on the board, while I wrote down what he said. We figured there was going to be trouble after he started off this morning."

Harry paused. "You caught everything he said?"

"I have relatives who speak German not much better, and won't speak anything else." Dean grinned. "So I've grown up with it. And thanks for the knife."

Harry reflected on the ideal of quill sharpening for a moment. A very simple ideal really, one that would have saved him several Galleons each school year on Quill sets before his body finally urged him onward towards food. The hurried breakfast had passed an hour ago, and he was eager with the time that he had to at least eat more. At least there was no one ahead of him while he quickly loaded his plate with ham slices, potatoes, peas and bread with a tall flagon of juice. In fact, there was hardly anyone at Gryffindor Table. With the staggered class schedule they all had, it was doubtful he'd bee seeing too many of his mates before final classes that day—which gave him a little time to be leisurely.

But no sooner than sitting down, Harry found himself approached from behind by none other than Theodore Nott.

"So, Potter, what do you think of this new teaching practice they've started here?"

In all his time at Hogwarts, Harry never had much contact with Nott. They were in the same year, shared some classes, and he was in Slytherin House. And his Father was a Death Eater. Nott had settled down on Harry's left, it wouldn't take too much to face him.

"It's the first day." Harry dryly replied. "Ask me in a week."

"I'm already hearing complaints." Nott smiled back. "From everybody."

Nott didn't inherent much from his father, unless once in his younger years his hair was reddish-brown and curled slightly at his high forehead. Everything else had a clear feminine touch to it, even the way he smiled.

Harry cut into his ham, not altogether impressed with his new-found company.

"But that lot's normally lazy." Nott went on. "And a good number of the new ones are starting to panic."

Harry forked some ham into his mouth, and proceeded to chew.

"And Draco hasn't been seen in a very long while."

Harry came very close to choking at that. It wasn't that he cared a whole lot for Malfoy. He'd done quite a lot in his time to place himself high on Harry's personal enemies list with how he went around with his 'holier than thou attitude' and desires to serve 'his Lord'. Maybe Malfoy was serving his Lord, as fertilizer for his Lord's personal garden—Harry wouldn't have cared.

"And to be quite honest, good riddance." Nott continued. "He thinks way too highly of himself. So much so, it wouldn't take a whole lot to bring him down. Not the kind of person I'd waste my time with."

He wanted Nott to go away, preferably back to his own table. But Harry was also caught by what Nott just said; _Not the kind of person I'd waste my time with._ For the son of a Death Eater, whose very father, their entire families' no less, are in close league with one another, to say such about one of _his_ own was very surprising in the least.

"Not the kind of person anyone should be wasting their time with, because he'll never come close to his father in anything. And that's saying a lot because his father wasn't much to begin with."

And what did _that _all mean? Harry wondered. Was it a lure to get him to react in some way, because it was certainly working.

Harry slowly turned to Nott, who was smiling.

"And that," Nott concluded, "says a lot. Enjoy your lunch, Potter. We'll see each other soon enough."

On that, Nott rose and walked away towards the Great Hall's massive doors in leaving. Harry simply watched him go, his mind working over what Nott just said before slowly returning to his meal. But not before catching sight of Crabbe and Goyle talking to each other at the Slytherin Table, while glancing obliviously at him.

10


	46. Chapter 46

Chapter Forty-six

Harry's Surprise.

By the middle of that week, the grueling schedule was beginning to take its toll on both new and older students alike. Many of them were becoming fretful at not being able to understand what the teachers were telling them, or able to complete the lengthy demands of homework that were now required on a daily basis from several of the teachers. And several of the younger ones started turning to their older fellows for help in these matters by the end of that first day. Not that many of them ever considered himself to be excellent teachers, including Harry--who himself was bogged down with what was being thrown at him in the Advanced classes and needed help himself. But the principal of it all was quite clear; they will either stand or fall together in what they all were facing. And they found the time to help the younger ones understand what was being taught; Neville was hugely helpful in Herbology, Shamus and Lee were largely accurate in Charms, George and Dean lended their expertise in Potions and Conjuring and Ginny was well advanced in Transfiguration along with Harry, who was also helping Ron with Defense Against the Dark Arts. But it was Hermione, though still mentally addled, was still every bit the sponge that she was before, sopping up knowledge simply by paying attention—which was a sure sign of her improvement. Unfortunately, she was till prone to stammering and stuttering nearly to the point of unintelligibleness. Even with Ron's and Harry's help, there were moments of frustration and impatience with her self and especially from the younger students who found Hermione's speaking to be very tedious and unhelpful. Of course, both Dean and Shamus threatened to withhold their notes and copied diagrams which made those scornful students. But clearly, Hermione needed help.

Just after Harry was finished going over the finer points of Introductory Transfiguration, George approached him with a solution to that very problem.

"Look Harry, can you take over the Potions part for today? There's something I remembered back at the shop that might help Hermione speak a little better."

Potions wasn't his best subject, largely due to Snape's prejudice nature towards him. But if it was Hermione, Harry agreed. Of course, it interfered with the second half of the Defense Against the Dark Arts tutoring and Nott's distant presence started bothering him. But it did make for some interesting moments as Harry combined the two together much to Ron's surprise.

"Next time," Ron simply told him, "tell me, please. No surprises."

"Sorry about that." Harry sincerely replied, but Ron waved it off.

"I just hope George knows what he's doing." Ron replied. "If he harms Hermione, I'll make damn sure he'll never forget it."

Harry knew George wouldn't dare take advantage of Hermione's current condition for the sake of a prank. The one thing he and Fred never did was to target a family member with a serious prank. Teasing was fine, but it went no further than that with regards to family, and Hermione _was_ considered family. But Ron's dark attitude was not only a very abrupt change but also a constant worry for both Harry and Ginny.

So, when George returned, with both Doc and Sky in tow looking very curious, Harry quietly began moving towards Ron—who was eyeing his brother very carefully.

Hermione was settling down in a far corner of the Common Room after another less than stellar attempt at giving a lecture on Potions, and looked at George approaching with a mixture of wonderment and apparent dread.

"Got something here that'll perk you right up, love." George smiled to Hermione, before handing over a moderately sized stone mug filled with a dark liquid not unlike tea to her.

"W-what?"

"It'll help you concentrate." George assured her, gently placing it in her hands. "It's something Fred and I hit upon while experimenting."

That clearly wasn't the right thing to say, especially around Ron. He started towards George with an expression that Harry couldn't see, but judging from Sky and Doc's reaction it wasn't pleasant. The older wizard moved directly head Ron off as Harry came up from behind, while Doc moved defensively next to George as life went on around them in unaware innocence.

"Now halt." Sky told Ron, speaking gently but looking determined enough to enforce his will. "Just calm down."

"Look Ron, if you think pranks and jokes were all that Fred and I came up in our lives—you're seriously mistaken." George defensively added. "There were a few things that despite not turning out as we originally hoped, actually showed some promise to be beneficial to people in other ways." And motioned to the mug before continuing, "This was to have been a fake Calming Drought with an extra spicy taste from all those Mexican peppers we added to it, but in stead, when Fred tested it he became extremely perceptive for several hours. And I do mean extremely perceptive."

Harry moved around so he could see Ron better. His friend looked quite likely to carry out his threat of harming anyone who harmed Hermione. And she was staring down at the mug in her hands.

"So Ron, git off it—ok?" George directly concluded. "Fred and I would never pull such a trick on her, especially as she is."

Ron didn't say much, nor did the expression on his face waver. Even as he looked down to Hermione and asked, "What do you think?"

She looked slightly last and wondering peering upwardly into Ron's face, gripping the mug unsurely with her hands. A moment later she looked down at it, looking at the dark fluid with in before looking up at George.

"Y-you wo-wouldn't harm me w-with a j-joke…Wo-would y-you?" she honestly asked him.

George stood still for the moment, and to Harry it looked like he was ready to have a fit of exasperation right there and then. But he calmed himself down, raised his right hand and pledged solemnly to her; "If that potion makes you feel ill in any way, I assure you that I will not raise any argument against any accusations of deliberate harm you'd want to make against me afterwards."

Sky appeared impressed with that. Neither Ron or Doc reacted immediately, but when Doc did it was with a shrug while Ron still looked upon Hermione—who slowly appeared satisfied with that. And slowly drank the mug's entire contents after that.

For the moments that took, Harry remained alert for any movement from Ron. Though Sky was in a better position to stop him from lunging at George, Harry figured he could get a proper grip on his friend from behind by restricting the movement of his arms…

Hermione blinked after finally finishing off the contents. She looked around wonderingly at those around her, and remarked "It-it tastes like…lemon."

Then she became quite astonished with herself at that moment, covering her mouth with a hand as if she'd said something very out of turn. And George just grinned.

"Lemon, you say…Hermione?" he grinned. "That's exactly what Fred's remark was."

Ron was completely beside himself in puzzlement, while Sky's face broke with a very broad grin.

"Er…Yes." Hermione managed to say, much to her evaporating disbelief.

Doc just looked as if he'd seen the impossible occur. Harry felt the same way.

But before either of them could speak, Hermione squeaked to George, "How?"

"Like I said, Love", George grinned back, "It was an accident." And then to the others, added. "Fortunately, Fred and I never throw away any notes regarding our failures—as most Wizards and Witches do. We knew it was a winner. We just didn't know how to sell it."

"I know a few people who'd help." Doc murmured.

"I know more." Sky cut in. And to George he grandly praised with a well meant pat on the back, "Son, you certainly earned your Cauldron!"

George just grinned widely, while Ron just started still in disbelief.

"Bloody hell." He whispered so softly that Harry barely herd him.

George found himself the object of attention in more ways than one soon afterward. When word went around about how he helped Hermione, both he as a person and whatever time he had became very scarce as numerous interested Potion Masters and Officials constantly on him to demonstrate both how the potion was made and to show the notes regarding it's manufacture. The reasons were basic; if it had such an effect upon Ms. Granger, despite the fact that she reverted back to her stammering after three hours, the potion could be used to help others that had suffered under similar circumstances.

At first, George simply basked in the well deserved glory of the creation. But after three days, he was becoming rundown and irritable—as Harry found him during a brief restbit in the Gryffindor Common Room.

"By Merlin, Harry, don't these 'experts' ever pass notes amongst themselves? I must have answered the same droll questions a thousand times already."

He was in one of the big armchairs before the fire, physically haggard with unfocused blood-shot eyes staring at nothing before him while cradling a large goblet in his lap containing something Harry could only guess at. "Those bastards have been keeping me up for the past two days, wanting to go over every damn part of that damned formula."

Harry did sympathize. He too was being pulled through the same sort of mill over Voldermort, only now the meetings where nothing useful was ever done were now stretched out to fill up any rest time he had from school work. When he moved to comfort George with that fact, the Weasley brother had slowly closed his eyes while tipping his head to his chest. And in no time was soundly asleep.

Harry didn't know if George would be bothered by any noise around him from the younger students. They didn't appear to be the type that would bother a sleeping person unless it was well warranted. And besides, a lot of them were even in the same shape as George was when they returned from the days classes.

It was better to let him rest. So Harry departed as quietly as he could from the Common Room, and ran into Neville at the door trying to franticly enter the Room.

"Harry…Harry!" Neville practically yelled, _"The Rooms ready!"_

Harry, after getting over his own very brief surprise, looked at his friend oddly. "Room? What room?"

Neville at least had the sense to calm himself before continuing. "The one that old American wizard built. McGonagall's going to be calling all of the Houses together for a tour of it real soon…"

Soon was too soon, and came in the form of a small paper airplane that landed by plunging nose first into Neville's messy hair the instant he stopped speaking. Harry quickly fished it out before Neville could and unfolded it so both could read…

This is a special notification, sent out to each House, calling for a special assembly of Gryffindor House to occur in the Great Hall of Hogwarts with ion at the hour of four this afternoon.

Please do not be late.

Prof. McGonagall.

That, as Harry consulted his watch, gave anyone in Gryffindor about thirty minutes to reach the Great Hall. He quickly told Neville about George, specifically not to bother him now, and went on to the Great Hall alone. Apparently notes were also issued to the instructors holding classes during that time, for by the time Harry, and later Neville with all those from the House, arrived; Gryffindor's table was filled with its members seated where they'd normally be under the watchful eyes of McGonagall from the Head Table.

Once Neville and the others were seated, McGonagall proceeded to speak. "For some time, there has been the construction of a special room here at Hogwarts designed to help further your training. It is a gift, freely given by the Americans, for our use as an instructional tool—and Gryffindor House will be given the first opportunity to witness its demonstration."

There was a loud murmur of wonderment coming from all except Harry and Ginny, who very much knew what is was since having spent so much time in one over the summer. But dutifully as House Head, Harry fell in behind Professor McGonagall and followed her all the way up to the top floor of the Eastern wing where Sky dressed in his usual drab affair waited for them noting the time with a solid silver pocket watch. He snapped it shut before exchanging pleasantries with Professor McGonagall, before turning to address the rest.

"Alright." He forcefully began. "What I have created for your learning pleasure here is what's normally called a Simulated Assessment Theater. Or, if you want, to use the slang term of 'Danger Room'.

And inhaled some before continuing."The purpose of this room is simply to test either people or conjured creations under the most life-like simulations currently known. You'll feel everything in there, as you'll soon see—everything! From the wind in your face, to the sun on your back and the pain of your mistakes—_you're goin' to feel it all_. Make no mistake, "he suddenly took up in warning, "idiots who didn't know better have gotten themselves killed using such rooms recklessly. I've placed safeguards to prevent those mistakes from occurring, but any safeguard can be circumvented by any sufficiently talented fool. If that happens, and I find what's left of that fool, they'll find what's left of their ass kicked to the Moon—and I've have the permission to do such in writing from the Headmistress…"

Sky looked them all over, sizing them up as a Sergeant would any new recruits before continuing.

"So, my advice to you all would be no smartin' around—and stay close."

With a permissive nod to McGonagall, Sky opened the door and quickly ushered all of them into a room that very much resembled the Teacher's Lounge with it's redwood paneling with shiny brass furnishings and fancy high-backed leather chairs positioned in three rows of twelve each upon an incline before a giant brass framed window that looked out onto a solid white room that appeared to stretch out to infinity. Behind this Gallery, was a smaller room that ran the length the Gallery's entire length with windows looking out over everything. And through those windows several people could be seen working over a glowing board.

All in all, it wasn't what Harry and Ginny were used to. Day's Danger Room was nothing like this, where all they did was just enter through the door and there they were.

Here, was entirely different. And by how much they would soon see, for as Sky passed by the empty Gallery to the giant double door that the floor sloped towards he raised his hand in a simple gesture to those in the booth without looking. In moments, the white room started flickering into a storm of wildly swirling colors that started to settle just as Sky reached the doors.

And they all passed through them, right into the middle of Central London.

Few of the students there had ever been in a major city like London, Harry being one—but his perspective was always from the rear seat of the Dursley's car and always strictly under their control when out of it. Now he and all of them simply marveled at the reality that moved in a rush around them. Cars roared and beeped and squealed by in an orchestrated mass governed by the traffic lights at intersections while people dressed in ways from bankers and business through visitors and tourists all the way down to the poor and derelict—all under the constant warmth of a late summer sun without a cloud in the clear blue sky.

"As I said," Sky began, as they all walked down the street, "_perfect simulation_ of what will be found in the outside world.

Perfectly indeed. The smells of car exhaust mingled with fresh food and the light touch of garbage waifed thought the warm air as Sky slowly lead them down streets, through parks and into various buildings as he spoke to simply allow them to experience what was going on all around them. Several of the students who'd never ventured beyond the small villages and hamlets where they were born were clearly overwhelmed by what they saw than those from non-magical homes. Both Dean and the Creevey Brothers were so at ease among their more nervous fellows, they immediately came under their attention and were badgered with questions about what was around them. Not too hard to understand why; for all of them, this was the first real time they've ever seen the Muggles going about their daily lives. Though Ron kept a very close watch on an apparently nervous Hermione, she too wasn't distracted by what was around her.

Ginny never let go of Harry's arm the whole time. She was a little nervous, but also in awe of what was around her. It was if they actually did leave Hogwarts' grounds and were actually walking in London

"You can eat, drink, drive, and handle objects, whatever you have a mind to do." Sky lectured as he led them down a cobblestone outdoor mall, lined with shops of all kinds that sold items with plenty of loud gaudy advertising. "Even converse with any of the people with in the simulation, they are created to react with absolute certainty to you."

As he said that, he was walking to a park bench where three men were sitting, reading newspapers that obscured their faces. There was nothing at all special about these particular people that would have normally held anyone's' interest, they were dressed leisurely with nothing flashy or gaudy about them.

Yet Sky stopped before them and turned to the students. "You can even meet notables." He said, gesturing to the men…

Who then lowered their newspapers and smiled to the students.

Weather it was a joke, or to show what the Danger Room could really produce, Harry wasn't quite sure. But there and very much alive before them all was Sirius Black sitting on the near edge of the bench, with Albus Dumbledore seated in the bench's center ever pleasant as he was when alive. The student's were completely astonished, but the third man on the bench was utterly unknown.

"Who's that?" One student asked.

Before Sky could, before McGonagall could—Harry knew. He was quite possibly the only one, and was the only one that automatically went for his wand while pushing a startled Ginny behind him amid the puzzled looks of the others. But they simply didn't know…

They never stood face-to-face with Voldermort at all.

Until now.

12


	47. Chapter 47

Chapter Forty-seven

Chapter Forty-seven

Stumbling Around.

"JUST WHAT IN HELL WERE ANY OF YOU EVEN THINKING WHEN DECIDING TO PLACE _HIM _INTO THAT PROGRAM!! I SWEAR TO ANY GOD THAT'S EVEN BOTHERING LISTENING TO ME AT THIS MOMENT THAT WAS NOT A BLOODY FUNNY JOKE AT ALL!!"

"You are very right about that, Mister Potter." McGonagall, seated behind the broad Headmaster's desk, gently put in, which only served to aggravate Harry more.

"YOU'RE DAMN BLODDY RIGHT ABOUT THAT!! HOW IN THE HELL DO YOU THINK I ENJOYED MAKING A FOOL OF MYSELF INFRONT OF THE ENTIRE HOUSE, FOR BLOODY SAKES!!"

"To be honest, Mister Potter, you reacted extremely fast to the presented threat."

Harry just stared at her, wild-eyed and absolutely deranged as he leaned over her desk in the Headmaster's Office. Her words slapped him across the face, stymieing any constructive action within him. There was nothing he could begin doing in that confused state. He didn't give a damn about all of the past Headmaster's and Mistress' painting looking down upon the scene from every wall in the room, he didn't care about respect or authority, nor did it really matter where he was at the moment. Because all that anger was tying up his mind, controlling every aspect of his current behavior. Especially after having just received the fright of his current life in the most openly humiliating way possible.

"Now that I also have your attention," McGonagall easily added, "may I please be allowed to _explain_ something to you?"

Harry started gearing up for another yelling fit as McGonagall cut him down with a harsh look. "While I am sorry that you were surprised in the way that you were in the Danger Room, _Mister Potter, _but the plain and simple reason for…_his…_being there is to _prepare_ the students for _him_."

Harry was beyond thinking. The rage seething with in placed and ability of thought well beyond his ability to grasp at that time, and wanted to perpetuate itself further. But in the simplest terms, McGonagall told him directly, "You are not, nor will not ever be the only wizard _He'll_ ever terrorize. As you've apparently forgotten in your fit of selfishness, Potter, _He'll_ kill all those who'll stand in defiance of _Him_, and those _He_ wont _He'll_ humiliate until they wish _He_ had! So it was simply decided to include _Him_ as one of the many replicas to be used in the practice simulations that will occur in that room, and _He'll_ be every bit as vile and dangerous as _He_ is known—so we _all_ can be ready!"

Her face was as if she was angry with Harry's current behavior, while sitting in the grand high-backed armchair behind the Headmaster's desk staring at him. Her voice though didn't hint it. Many of those in their portraits started nodding in agreement as she continued.

"Wars aren't fought and won by one individual, as Muggles are told through their entertainment. It takes the efforts of many to achieve victory, not one. You may think otherwise from your own personal experiences against _Him, _such occurrences are pure chance which you are extremely lucky to have survived. Even though it's destined to come down to just the two of you in the end, still it's also very much probable that the final battle will be between many with several teaming up to defeat _Him. _So, _He _is there to give us all a crack at him.Is that understood Potter?"

He anger had diminished, but it was still raging within. While his more sensible self was able to see the logic of McGonagall's reasoning, still treating one like Voldermort' like a joke—sitting there on a bench with Dumbledore and Sirius casually reading the afternoon newspaper—was way too much for his liking.

"You don't treat any of em' like that." He lowly growled. "Not ever…"

"We don't intend to, Mister Potter." McGonagall sternly retorted.

The anger wanted another go, but sensibility was slowly regaining control. And thus, its hold over Harry was diminishing. McGonagall's own anger diminished in turn. "I'll notify the other Heads of Houses to inform their students not to harass you on this matter." She gently continued. "We're not deducting points, or giving them this year. But we do have a sufficient means of punishment to deal with such matters."

Harry just nodded as the anger perched readily in his throat; it's last retreat from which to launch another assault from. Only Harry's sensibility wasn't about to let it come out.

"I'll take that nod as an understanding of the matter." McGonagall said as she stood up. "Now for one more thing…"

She moved from her desk to the cabinet that Harry remembered normally contained Dumbledore's Pensive. From where he was standing before the desk, he couldn't see the great stone bowl. But what McGonagall removed from the cabinet and placed on the desk before him was much smaller and no better adorned.

She began with a drawn breath. "What we need from you is a copy of everything involving this matter. And I mean everything…Including all that occurred…"

McGonagall hesitated, overcome by some very powerful emotion. Harry knew what she meant though; she wanted everything he knew that Dumbledore had shared with him about Voldermort, and in particular all that occurred on that last night on the Observation Tower…When Dumbledore died.

For what wasn't clearly apparent to him. There was inkling that the stored memories were being used to create the replicas with in the Danger Room's environment, which would make sense. There was no other way that they would have been able to have achieved such a perfect likeness of Tom Riddle's current appearance, only Dumbledore and Harry himself had ever looked into that inhuman face and lived…It had to have been the only way for it to have been done.

At that moment, McGonagall steeled herself then touched her wand to the side of Harry's head. No warning, no word, just the icy sensation of his brain suddenly being bathed in very cold water. For long moments he couldn't breathe or think as the chill flowed through every part of his mind, from beginning to the current end. And just as swiftly, it ended and Harry found the ability to breath with he did in a loud rush as he herd the clatter of a stone lid being placed upon a stone pot.

That brought him to face McGonagall, who was turning at the same time to face him with the stone bowl in her hands and a sorrowful look upon her face.

"I'm sorry…But it had to be done, Harry." She gently addressed. "We too need to know…Everything."

There wasn't much he could say, let along begin. And McGonagall never gave him the chance, before flowing quickly from the room.

It wasn't too long before the story of what happened to Harry in the new 'Danger Room' became known thought out the school and in turn leaked to The Daily Prophet and other gazettes that the students had access to. The following day's headlines shouted out the encounter in large words complete with his picture underneath, an old picture at that taken maybe two or three years prior—Harry couldn't fully recall—and surrounded by the most sensational gibberish ever printed…

**INCIDENT AT HOGWARTS!!  
THE 'ONE' INVOLVED IN CLAMITY WITH NEW TEACHING AID!**

'**Danger Room' Lives up to its Name.**

Hogwarts—Yesterday, a new 'teaching aid' was unveiled before the students of Hogwarts, during the demonstration of which almost resulted in its damage when Harry Potter reacted to the 'replica' of He Who Must Not Be Named. The 'Aid', known by the slang term 'Danger Room', is a vastly powerful place of illusion that creates any environment right down to the minute details so realistically it literally fools the most astute Wizards and Witches known in the land.

And in this case, even Harry Potter, who by accounts nearly blasted the replica of He Who Must Not Be Named right off a park bench. Why said person what even sitting on that park bench wasn't fully addressed, but it was noted that Mr. Potter took great pains to gallantly protect one Ginny Weasley from harm when the replica-He Who Must Not Be Named revealed itself…

For him, the matter was an annoyance that wouldn't leave him alone. And worse, they had to drag Ginny into the matter. At least McGonagall kept the reporters away from Hogwarts, but not from Hogsmead where they congregated filling up every available room that could be had or setting up tents to reside in. Harry had no desire to even meet up with Rita Skeeter, who undoubtedly would be down there as well. The 'so-called' reporter now working freely on her own, producing many lengthy articles upon current events and those playing significant parts in those events published in the Prophet bringing nothing but embarrassment and irritation to Harry with every printed word—which judging from the size of her written articles in the Prophet, she was getting paid quite a lot for them. It was false, all of it was false. Harry knew personally Skeeter's fondness for recreating the truth, but a lot of others didn't. And that lead to even more confrontations where Harry's very self-control was tested to its limits when the questions raised in the articles were asked. Even with Ron threatening to bash in the teeth of the next person who asked, Hermione, Ginny, and members of Dumbledore's Army not withstanding, the questions still kept coming—even from those who experienced other aspects of the Room's ability to create realism.

"Damn, I swore that Troll was going to take by head off when he reached out to me!" Stated one Hufflepuff student to a large gathering of younger students that surrounded him in the Hall. "I mean it was like real; the smell, the sound Troll makes when they are hunting—even when they attack!"

Harry didn't stop to ask how that student knew what he was talking about. His own experience with Trolls was limited to that one time in the Girls bathroom during his first year at Hogwarts, and that was clearly more than enough. At that time, he was tired from another full day of lessons and only wanted rest somewhere soft and preferably quiet for an hour or so. That was all the free time he had before having to help tutor the younger House members in something he'd just forgot.

Never mind, he told himself. You'll figure out something.

With Lee now able enough to join the more active, that left the dorm room vacant which suited Harry very well. But to get to that room, he had to travel through the Common Room to get to the stairs and then hope he wouldn't run into anyone while traveling up them.

Provided he could remember the current password so the Fat Lady's portrait would swing open. It was something involving porridge, only it wouldn't come to him the closer he came to the portrait door no matter how hard he tried to bring it out of its cerebral hiding place.

But when he finally arrived at the door, The Fat Lady wasn't there…

It was Dumbledore, looking tired…Very tired.

"Don't worry about the password, Harry." He quietly said after raising his head to face Harry. "We'll speak later."

And the door swung open to a nearly empty Common Room.

There were six students at the great table, faces and attention fully focused upon the textbooks they were reading. Every so often, one would scribble down some reference onto a carefully rolled parchment as Harry passed quietly by. He couldn't tell what they were studying, or even cared just as long as he could get past them and up the long flight of stairs to the room and the bed that was his. But once past those students and finally up those stairs, the world appeared to be a much better place allowing him to breath a little easier for the time being. Each step up those stairs wasn't as arduous as the last, and when he reached the door to the room all he could feel was relief at last.

Finally, at last...

And there was Day sitting on his bed.

"Hi." He said.

Suddenly, the whole world came crashing back upon Harry's shoulders.

"Hi yourself." Harry replied a little surlier than he intended. He was tired, simply that, and wanting no one around him at the moment. He didn't mean to be rude, but never the less fought down the urge to yell at him. But lately, it seemed everybody and everything was jumping on his back with the serious intent of breaking it.

"They've been running you though the grinder really well, I see." Day responded in a very irritable way of his very own with an additional sharp look. "Now to mention through the ringer, the wash, and a few other things that don't come to mind right away."

Harry growled inwardly, and regained what little self control he had.

"Sorry." He muttered.

A moment later, Day himself relaxed. "We're all on edge, Harry. I read what happened in the newspapers…Sky really should have known better…"

Harry didn't respond.

"And I myself just got back from London." Day added. "I need to 'report in' with McGonagall."

Harry was tempted to ask; _why wasn't he doing that now in stead of being here? _Just that the urge to do simply wasn't around to motivate him at all.

"But I wanted to see you first." Day directly told him. "Harry, as I am sitting here, I haven't got a clue towards figuring out what Voldermort is using for his Horcurxes—beyond the simple fact that he's chosen one-of-a-kind items that held personal meaning to a specific select group of people. And I do mean specific—"

"Items belonging to Hogwarts' founders." Harry dully broke his silence. "Including his own direct ancestor…Dumbledore was able to piece that to—"

"Together. I know that much—except for Ravenclaw and Gryffindor." Day appeared frustrated, and clearly sounded so. "And, where the other items are located. I simply don't go into a place absolutely blind, you know. I gotta know exactly where the stuff is to get at it."

That was easy to understand. But why ask him? He had no ideal either. All Harry could come up with himself was always nothing when trying to think of what those items could be. And it was really doubtful anyone kept records of their property at the time of their deaths, Harry thought, it was just simply impossible to seek out any decedents to ask…

"And to know, I need someone who'd know." Day continued. "Dumbledore's a major help, but there's very little else he could do as a portrait."

"You've been speaking with his portrait?" Harry blinked in surprise; the mere fact that Day had mentioned it jarred him completely awake.

"Well yes, he's the one that gave me the initial information on what the Horcurxes could be. But my running all over London, digging up records and shaking down contacts has produced zilch with regards to any further information." Day at that point was starting to become dismayed, frustrated and quite clearly at his wits end on the matter. But on the other hand, Harry's mind was in an absolute whirl.

Yes, it was possible to speak with the departed through their portraits. Dumbledore himself had mentioned a while back that he and every previous Headmaster and Mistress do occasionally seek the guidance and advice for their predecessors on a variety of matters…

And many, whose portraits line the walls and halls of Hogwarts, have been known to make the occasional remark or comment on what passes within their view…

As if they were alive…

Harry's mind raced thought the possibilities, taking him far away from where he was and Day's wondering gaze…

They would talk…They would know…

And when the answer came to him, he simply raged with in at his blatant stupidly at not even considering such because it had always been with in his reach the entire time…Even when he first arrived at Hogwarts.

"Come on!" Harry suddenly snapped at Day with eyes suddenly alight with realization. "We gotta see Professor McGonagall…_And Rowena Ravenclaw herself!"_

11


	48. Chapter 48

Chapter Forty-eight

Chapter Forty-eight.

Visitations.

_I had just spent two more fruitless weeks in London before returning with nothing, and I mean NOTHING. But my pockets were certainly lighter in terms of money. Apparently, it was an open secret that I was in town looking for something…_

_Of course, they didn't get very far (which tied up my time significantly) and neither did I because of it. _

_Bone wasn't much help with the Ministry. They, in the current light, were undergoing a "Massive Internal Transformation" geared towards restoring honor and trust to the flagging institution. Trust me; snowballs stand a better chance of staying snowballs in Hell than the Ministry had of ever coming out of its transformation with any ounce of respect. But that's my opinion. And during the course of this magical version of purging, almost all of the information concerning what was taken from Borgin and Burks, along with Mr. Borgin himself, was missing. _

_Yes, missing…_

_How this was achieved nobody could figure out, because nobody had the time to work on it. And meanwhile a whole load of stuff infused with nasty magic was simply sitting 'somewhere', and the person it was taken from was possibly starving to death in a cell that somebody forgot he was in. 'Total Bureaucracy' was what Bone called it while in a total state of incredulousness. Even he couldn't believe that such an organization managed to even exist for this long without some sort of internal structure to give it order. But it was an excellent opportunity for corruption to breed, and breed it did for a very long time._

_"This mess goes back centuries." He told me. "Longer than the New York Scandal of 1697. Ripping through all of it is taking up all our energies to deal with."_

_Somehow I feel that Arthur Weasley wouldn't be at all surprised by it. I managed to speak with him briefly after he arrived at Hogwarts with his wife, his vivid recollection of trying to search for 'illegal' objects at the Malfoy Mansion (based off of information gleamed by his son Ron and Harry) and how it turned into an exercise in utter frustration because members of the Office of Magical Legality kept interfering; first in stalling while getting the warrant to search, then second in trying to talk him out of searching the Malfoy residence because it could easily make him look like a fool, and the Ministry as well, for harassing such a prominent person. _

_It was often said that Lucius Malfoy always walked the hall of the Ministry with plenty of gold in his pockets.Given how much the lowly office worker is paid there, Malfoy was the 'Money Fairy' just handing it all out…for favor._

_"I never got with in a League of that place." Arthur angrily spat in the living room of their Hogwarts' apartment, while his wife rested in a near-by bedroom. "My Aurors and Assistants were suddenly reassigned to other areas of the country on wild goose chases, my authority to conduct such a search was heavily questioned by people who hadn't the authority even to do so, and when the Office of Magical Law Enforcement sent their people over to search they all came back stating that they had found nothing out of the ordinary in the possession of such a noteworthy individual. Probably fed them tea and cakes while playing the perfect host by telling stories of youthful exploits…"_

_To call his attitude foul at that point would amount to a very gross understatement. Considering what he was going through, especially with Fred all bashed up as he was, it was a wonder he wasn't throwing things across the room out of pure blind frustration at not being able to do a damn thing about anything._

_I've been there too. And I don't want to go back._

_But there I was, flat with nothing to show for it. _

_So I took the chance to pick Harry's brain. Longshot without compare, but I was at the end of my rope with nowhere to go but down._

_The results even surprised me. Harry suddenly became as one insane from an ideal only he knew, and wouldn't say. All I did was follow him, though I nearly took him off the stairs by stumbling down them. Somehow, I doubt he would have felt anything. He would have simply picked himself off the floor, run as best he could to the Common Room's door and start shouting at it._

_"Get me Ravenclaw! Rowea Ravenclaw! I'll meet her at her portrait!"_

_Then run off in the direction of Ravenclaw House. Well, he did exactly that much to the astonishment of all those in earshot—even me—and well rushing down the corridor by the time I entered it._

_"Of course!" a voice suddenly gasped beside me. "Even I should have guessed it!"_

_It was Dumbledore, in the portrait. He was rushing out of frame when I turned, and gone when I started to speak. When they started ganging up on me, I started after Harry who now I could just see the top of his head way far down the corridor managing to catch up with him clear over on the west side of the Castle—after numerous battering incidents with people in the corridors. He was there standing before the large portrait door featuring Dumbledore speaking with a tall, strikingly beautiful woman with long brown hair wearing very formal looking robes and very little jewelry, while Harry was simply going nuts waiting before the portrait itself. _

_Rowea Ravenclaw was one of the four founders of Hogwarts, a witch who prided wisdom and wit over power, and very skillful with spoken riddles. A very tricky person to sort out. Yet Harry hit something squarely, after I had spoken to him about…_

_Ah Damn! Of course, Horcurxes! The very personal items of the school's founders…What was it of hers that was used? Harry had to have come up with the ideal as I picked his mind, and Dumbledore realized what he was getting at…But he and the co-founder didn't appear to be connecting. She was shaking her head in a baulking way while crying, and Dumbledore was doing his civilized best to speak with her. Not particular pleasant to see, especially with a crowd gathering around demanding to know what was going on. I ran block for Harry, hoping for a quick solution to the dilemma occurring in the portrait…_

_I should have wanted a more 'favorable' solution. Ravenclaw stormed off and out of the portrait as I got between an official and Harry. Dumbledore paused only so long to give a quick indication that he'll keep trying, and quickly left himself._

_I wished he'd stayed just a little longer, it would have been a big help in dealing with the calamity that quickly followed outside that portrait._

_"What I reasoned, Professor, was that Rowea Ravenclaw would have an ideal what of hers Voldermort made into a Horcrux." Harry later explained to McGonagall in her office. "Since it is possible to converse with the portraits of those who've passed on, I wondered—"_

_"That particular portrait was created just before her death, Mr. Potter." McGonagall stated from behind her desk. "While I understand what you were doing, unfortunately you wouldn't have gained much information. From what legends tell, she wasn't one allowed people into her life--especially if it was a personal matter."_

_Harry did his best not to let the pain show, but little bits of frustration did bubble up to his face standing before McGonagall and her desk. _

_"Have you herd anything from Dumbledore?" I had to ask. It kept my mind off the shiner I was nursing with my hanky. Luckily the wizard who threw that punch wasn't fond of ornate rings._

_"He's about, Mr. Day." McGonagall indicated to the now empty portrait on the wall just over her right shoulder. "When he gets back, I'll call you both."_

_Harry was defeated and deflated as we walked down the corridor. I had to admit, it was a good ideal—an excellent ideal…_

_At least it was much more than what I had going for me._

_"This is becoming insane." Harry exclaimed as we neared the portrait door to Gryffindor. "We don't know where the bastard is anymore than we know what he's used for his Horcurxes. And on top of that—"_

_"Harry calm down for a moment."_

_"Calm down!" He suddenly turned on me. "How can I calm down when this is driving utterly mad!"_

_He had a point. I mean the pressure on him had to be murderous. But I looked right into that contorted face and told him in my most direct tone of voice, "Harry, remember about keeping a cool head in a bad situation?"_

_"Well, yes...but—"_

_"This is one of those times." I told him. "Come on, let's go for a walk."_

_Night had yet to fall when we started our little stroll. And the Aurors out and about as well didn't grant us much privacy, but then neither of us were speaking anyway._

_Harry was just stewing with the world right on his shoulders, while I was simply enjoying a cigerrette. Actually, it's how I relax. Not an easy thing to do to put what troubles you the most aside while formulating a plan to deal with it. But the time-out for the mind does do wonders, especially to think from a fresh perspective. By the time we were nearing Hagrid's hut, Harry seemed a little lighter in attitude._

_"Sorry." He said._

_"About what?"_

_He hesitated for a few, then added, "For yelling…at you…back there."_

_I slowly blew some smoke out through my lips. "Not a problem, Harry…Not a problem."_

_He sighed a tired sigh. "It just this damned mess I'm in…Frustrating…"_

_"At least they're not peeling you off the ceiling."_

_He turned to look at me as if my joke hit a raw nerve. And right about then, Hagrid stepped out of his hut._

_I'll admit to being intimidated by him. It's the wild appearance, the overall size, and past experience with those who used such beings as personal enforcers and 'collectors'. Honestly, there's noting more frightening than one at your doorstep demanding payment on a debt—as many have discovered. Their resistance to all minor and major forms of magic is well documented, as their ability to take massive amounts of physical punishment of all kinds. And those wearing enchanted body armor, from head to toe, can handle everything up to a nuclear bomb. But for Harry's sake, I played considerate. He and Hagrid go all the way back to the beginning, where I only stepped in recently._

_"Hey Harry," He greeted Harry with a broad smile, "got time fer a cuppa?"_

_All I got was a nod with a slightly cold look after Harry agreed, and "Yer too, Mister Day."_

_I'll admit, I've been in worse situations. Harry could tell Hagrid didn't at all care or appreciate my company, but like the half-giant kept his feelings from showing while serving coffee in gigantic stone mugs and cakes roughly the same size. And to keep things from being negative, I said my 'thank you's' when served._

_Hagrid's response was a cordial but curt nod of his big bushy head towards me._

_"Sorry I haven't been around to visit much, Hagrid." Harry started off. "Classes are—"_

_"I know, I know Harry." Hagrid knowingly replied. "They got me goin' over some of der more dangerous beasts yer and yours may encounter, though some of em' ar' a waist of time if yer asked me."_

_He then quoted out a lengthy list of some of the largest creatures of our secretive world: Dragons, Wyrms, Boar-Tigers, Great Spiders—stuff that was both nasty and completely ridiculous for Voldermort' to employ, unless he went public. The smaller stuff Hagrid also added was pretty much what would be expected, and was eager to teach…Unfortunately…_

_"I can't git started ona it until that lot decides wot I should be teachin' on." Hagrid nearly raged before us. "They're spendin' too much time arguein' and figurein', and not a thing ona actual teachin! Hell, I could show em' a thing or tew by taken' the blood lot out inter the Forest. I could show em' a good many things."_

_"Total Bureaucracy here as well." I let out with a sigh. "It's just as bad at the Ministry."_

_"Oh?" Hagrid coolly responded, looking critically at me._

_When my attention shifted to him, I was met with a cold look of mild irritation—the sort of face supposedly worn by a person who politely doesn't like you. But I had opened my mouth, so out it all came; especially the frustrations in locating the Horcurxes. Harry even chimed in about his attempt at speaking with the Ravenclaw portrait and the frustrations encountered there._

_"She wouldn't speak with yer at all, Harry?" Hagrid incredibly asked him._

_"She became upset and ran away, even as Dumbledore was speaking with her. Professor McGonagall will tell us if anything was discovered, but in the meantime—"_

_Harry stopped because he smelled something a moment before either Hagrid or I did. It was god-awful. The pungent odor of poorly processed tobacco that was sold cheaply at many a convenience shop, the very kind that would give the smoker a pleasurable high while rotting their lungs out._

_"Dungus!" Hagrid growled._

_I was lost at that. But Harry nicely filled in the details for me. "Fletcher? But he's dead!"_

_"E' is." Hagrid growled again. "But es' ghost has been commin' around here…"_

_And sure enough, he arrived._

9


	49. Chapter 49

Chapter Forty-nine.

The Matter of Fletcher.

_In my so far long and very eventful life, I can easily lay claim to seeing things and witnessing events far beyond the spectrum of the mundane world. Not all of them pleasant, and many downright scary-- like watching Hagrid blowing gaskets as he sent his blood pressure through the roof while yelling at the specter hovering before us. _

_In life. Mundungus Fletcher had a seedy, unkempt appearance so typical of the lower class ner-do-well thief I find myself associating (however unwillingly) with when there's no other choice. Short and portly in stature, his dark hair was in need of a wash and comb; he needed a shave and desperate shoes. His robe wasn't much better, stains could be seen on its dark surface (especially around the neck) and he had it tied closed with a healthy length of stout rope. _

_Very easy to pass off as a vagrant, which no doubt the Police did when finding his body in Hyde Park--especially with that foul tobacco smell about him. He was probably expected, by his family, to be much more, (as it's always the case) but fell into that life of 'easy money through gaff'. I'm really not much different, but I mix it with the addiction to adventure with a very healthy dose of common sense gained from many unforgotten experiences—possibly why I'm still alive. Fletcher, unfortunately, went in the opposite direction, and (so horribly) discovered a faster death. Now as a ghost, the only real improvement was a bluish hue. _

_But to Hagrid, it did matter at all._

_"Out of my 'ouse! Out now!" Hagrid was vivid, and Harry himself wasn't looking very pleasantly at the specter. Given what was told he had done, I wouldn't be altogether pleasant either._

_"Rubeus please!" pleaded the ghost. "I'm only—"_

_He, it, whatever, it's difficult to use the correct term with spirits, suddenly flinched and dodged the stone coffee mug Hagrid cannon-balled right at it's head. It only sailed through to slam loudly against the wall._

_"Out, Damn Yer! OUT!!"_

_Ghosts don't appear without reason, especially when in distress. However, seeing how enraged our host was, it was better not to become involved…_

_Yes, you may call me a coward. But I can easily do other highly dangerous things than getting between a very irate half-giant and a desperate. Not even in a tank would I do such a thing, thank you kindly much. There are just some things that are simply suicide._

_"Yer a Bee-trayer, Dungus! A filthy, rotten bee-trayer!" Hagrid raged, pointing an accusing finger at the cringing specter. "'Ow much were yer promised fer bringin' Harry to em, eh? A Thousand gold? Ten-thousand? Ow much was it!!"_

_Between the rages, I could hear shouting from the outside. If it wasn't the sound of the mug hitting the wall, then Hagrid's yelling would have done it. And with my back to the door, I started sweating out the possibility of getting zapped again by an overeager Auror. Once was bad enough, twice would be too much. I started sliding my chair close to Harry's, figuring that when I herd the sound of steps on Hagrid's doorstep I could dive out of the way taking Harry with me. _

_"Hagrid, please! Gimme a chance to ex—"_

_"LIE MORE LIKE IT!!" Hagrid thundered back so viciously that the entire hut shook. "AND DUMBLEDORE TRUSTED YER TEW!!"_

_I didn't have a chance. The door blew inward, and there were Aurors bustling up against us. I tried to drag Harry under the cover of the table, but both of us were roughly dragged out of the hut as Hagrid continued raging at the specter._

"It's not like…_Him_… to use ghosts, or anything that reminds Him of Death—if our reports are correct." Auror Dawlish explained to a seated Professor McGonagall. "So on that, it can be considered that his ghost is not an ally.

"But in the other hand, considering his part in the initial abduction, there maybe a third party involved. Parties that may have some measure of, or trying to gain, favor with…_Him_. It's only a possibility, of course."

"Of course." McGonagall nodded her head in understanding. "My predecessor considered him a valuable ally and source of information against the Death Eaters amongst the criminal element—while he was alive."

Harry just fumed, remembering how Fletcher looted Sirius' home of its valuables, never mind the fact that all he had to do was ask because they were all going to be thrown out anyway, then attempt to use the home to store various illegal items without much regard to what everyone else thought, especially Sirius. Then finally leading him into that trap…While it was mean to think that the criminal got what he deserved, Harry couldn't find much sympathy with in him to feel the least bit sorry for what happened to Fletcher.

"Then again," Dawlish put in, "it's all together possible that Mundungus Fletcher may have come to his end by some other failed criminal enterprise. Perhaps an old enemy seeking vengeance; we'll never know, since considering whom he was testimony from him wouldn't be considered due to his criminal standing."

"Then," McGonagall repeated, "How can you explain his ghost appearing here after all that time? Usually, it's either instantaneous or with in a month—it's been almost five since his death."

"That…I'm not sure of, Professor." The usually tough looking man was quite uncomfortable with being caught off guard by such a question. "The Spirits Office would be much better to answer that question than I am…Its just that now isn't the best of times to be making an inquiry about it."

McGonagall soured slightly at that and glanced at Day, who just nodded. The reformation of the Ministry had everything in turmoil, and any hope for information was simply as lost one until the process was complete.

"You are keeping him here for the time being?" Dawlish asked

"In the Dungeons, yes. Don't worry, Mr. Dawlish, Fletcher won't be going anywhere immediately."

That made the Senior Auror somewhat relieved and he quickly left the room to return to his duties. Then McGonagall turned to Harry and Day.

"Any suggestions?" she calmly asked.

Harry frowned. If alive, he would have loved to see Fletcher get his punishments for what he did. But as Dawlish stated, Fletcher's death could have come from a good many other sources—which left him wondering who else would want to have him.

"Is…he willing to speak?" Day hesitantly asked.

Harry looked up at him wondering _why?_

"He's willing to talk about anything." McGonagall casually persisted. "The problem is, as you've herd, does he have anything that can be taken as truth? I've always known him as an opportunist, Mr. Day. But to betray Harry's existence would have had to have taken a lot of doing."

"But you don't trust what his answer would be." Day pointed out.

McGonagall looked very tired. It was quite astonishing to Harry, he's been standing there the whole time and never noticed. In fact, everything about her seated there at the Headmaster's desk appeared run down and fatigued.

"Ghost will lie just as they did when alive, Mr. Day." She tiredly replied. "And Fletcher was one who was always _vague_ with the truth with it suited him."

Then, she appeared to rejuvenate right there. Her face holding the intense expression of deep thought.

"But why come back here after so long?" She wondered. "He could have gone to any other place, or stayed where he was killed—as typical in several cases…"

She let the thought wonder for a bit. Harry knew she was thinking, and neither he nor Day said or did anything that would break that process.

Then McGonagall glanced at them.

"I think it's time for a visit." She told them.

Fitch had often spoken of the Dungeons, regarding the numerous punishments available to administer towards wayward and insolent students. But that had always been him, despite his protests in favor of using chaining those students he felt deserved it the Instructors of Hogwarts never allowed him to. So Harry, his friends, and countless many other students through the years, were spared the ancient punishments for the more humiliating suffrage of being responsible for the loss of House Points for their thoughtlessness and bad behavior.

He had an ideal of what a dungeon would look like; they were dark, dank place of cold slime-covered stone and stout iron bars. There was no other reason to think that Hogwarts' dungeon wasn't any better than those depicted in countless movies shown on the television, so Harry figured. What he found, once following McGonagall through the heavy iron door concealed behind a wall panel at the office's far end, was a long spiral stone stairwell leading downward for quite a long ways deep into the depths of the castle and underlying ground before reaching a second and similar iron door that used the same key to open. Only this door didn't squeak upon opening, it glided open without a single sound, and closed the same way when they entered the corridor that lay beyond. There, torches came to fiery life in their hanging brackets, revealing a lengthy stone corridor that was surprisingly clean of any slime, mold, or moisture of any kind.

Nor was it at all cold, but unnaturally warm—almost unbelievably so. But the heavy iron bars were there, some forming doors to smaller cells while others sealed off air passages to prevent any escape from occurring. Harry paid them some attention as they went past, but for the most part his attention was on keeping up with McGonagall now well ahead of them and starting to slowdown.

She stopped before a heavy black door, reinforced with black rough iron bands that were held in place with large round rivets, and pounded three times upon the door.

Then Nick's head appeared through the door, giving everyone a good looking over before relaxing.

"In a moment, Professor." He smiled, pulling his head back through the door.

Then it opened with a sharp snap, swinging inward on its frame.

Fletcher was seated, if a ghost could sit or want to, in the center of the room with Nick, who had his arm's folded across his chest, on his right and the Bloody Baron to his left, with a hand on the pommel of his sword. Neither House Ghost looked thrilled to be there standing over Fletcher, and Fletcher nervously glanced from one to the other while perched there. Harry wondered what they'd do if Fletcher did anything that required immediate action to stop. Fletcher knew, or at least had a very good ideal. But as Harry entered the cell, there next to the doors were two Aurors with an unusual piping on the lapels of their dark robes holding large, club-like black wands longer than normal wands and more sinister appearing. Neither of them acknowledged Harry or Day, as their eyes were focused upon Fletcher, now fearfully watching McGonagall approach.

"You're safe for now, Fletcher." She easily said, stopping before him. "My Banishment skills are rather rusty these days. But cause me frustration, and I'm sure

the special Aurors here with us can arrange something."

"I assure you Minerva," Fletcher nervously smiled, shrinking back as well, "I shall—"

"Enough."

Quite chastened, Fletcher quieted.

"I'll get to the point with you, Fletcher." McGonagall continued with an underlying hint of anger. "Why are you here?"

Fletcher squirmed in his seat. "I…I came to warn…you."

Harry couldn't see McGonagall's face. But she didn't jump at what she herd, standing stiffly as before.

"Harry, especially Harry." Fletcher stumbled along. "The Dark Lord is gathering his minions together for an attack upon Hogwarts…He wants to deal with Harry once and for all!"

Nothing really newsworthy, Harry figured, and McGonagall could have simply brushed it aside. But she asked instead; "When is this attack planned?"

"Soon." The ghost eagerly responded. "It's very soon."

A frustrated sigh that came from McGonagall.

"_Fletcher!_" she loudly barked at the spirit.

"_That's all I know!_" Fletcher pleaded. "It's all I could find out. That…monster doesn't like ghosts around him…"

"Quite understandable?" McGonagall crossly said.

"And me old mates don't want me around either…"

"Again, quite understandable." McGonagall harshly grated back. "You weren't entirely trustworthy, or obeying. I don't think it was too difficult for any friends of the Black Family to figure out how much of their personal property ended up in other people's hands, no matter how often you were told to leave it alone!"

That put a smile on Harry's face. Seeing the thief recoil from that remark was priceless. Just a probably hearing who he sold the items to…And who arranged it with him to perform the kidnapping. But the smile soon faded. No, it wasn't right—not right at all. They all knew Fletcher was a thief whose word could be trusted only so far, and they didn't keep checking on him for the fact. So, in a sense, they allowed him to do what he did. Even if more important matters kept getting in the way, they didn't keep a very watchful eye on him.

"But he was thrown' it all out…You cannot call that thieving." The ghost wailed.

"No, you're quite right Fletcher, we can't." McGonagall briskly stated. "But what can we call the storage of improperly made caldrons at the Black Residence then?"

Fletcher winced painfully at that before settling back to sniveling in a pious manner that was simply pathetic.

"But lets say all matters will be forgotten," McGonagall quietly began, "if the reasons why you're here have some validity to them."

Fletcher swallowed nervously.

"So…Why are you here?"

It took the ghost a full minute to finally speak. And when he did, it came as a nervous stammer. "T-there are m-more than just V-vol—_that person--_ who want Harry…S-some are to-too small, not w-worth the l-lot…But there's one. A-a real looker…A-a real scary one…"

McGonagall frowned, as did Harry, who couldn't figure out whom else would want him dead. But it appeared Voldermort was having to deal with someone with similar aspirations, who was making a serious effort to undermine his authority.

Perhaps, he wondered, this might prove useful, and listened more attentively.

"Who?" McGonagall demanded.

Fletcher swallowed nervously, almost as if he couldn't speak the name at all…

And when he did, Harry jumped within.

"Ber-Bernadine Hazel." He blurted out.

10


	50. Chapter 50

Chapter Fifty.

As if things weren't bad enough.

"Of course I know who she is!" Day angrily shouted. "So does Harry…Ginny too. If you've read—"

"I've read the reports." McGonagall coolly replied. "And I must congratulate you on being well up to the task."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now please, calm down for a few minutes—we'll need to figure out a way of dealing with this."

McGonagall's brisk manner had something of a calming effect on Day, who upon hearing the name stammered out by a frightened ghost became just as angry as Hagrid did and charged up to Fletcher demanding more information before being forcibly restrained by the Aurors. It took a lot to get him back to the Headmaster's office, mainly threats of what he called a 'Puppeteer' being used on him, but he was still very vivid upon arrival. She didn't need to worry about Harry, seated in one of the office armchairs, slouching over to his right side where his head was supported by his right hand in a complete state of surprise.

Of all the people who wanted him either dead, or in a less than human state, Hazel was a complete surprise to encounter again. But the more he thought about it, the less surprised he was by the fact she was here; she went through a lot of trouble to track Day down in Fresno with a highly elaborate trap, and it never seemed apparent _why _at the time or afterward. Harry figured then it was an old enemy trying to get back at Day, and all of them just happened to be at the wrong place at that particular time. But what if there was more, he started wondered, sitting there in the chair as McGonagall was trying to console Day on the other side of the room. What if she did know who they were, and wanted to try again?

No, Harry dashed that thought away at once. Voldermort wasn't the kind to allow any other aspiring Witch or Wizard to usurp him, especially regarding the existence of one Harry Potter. He'd go after them just as he had his parents, or direct his Death Eaters to make examples of those foolish enough to try. But Hazel was desperate to regain the power and control that had been taken away from her when she was thrown out of Los Angeles. Going from what Day explained of her, it was easy to picture her as Voldermort's female counterpart as their goals and desires were not all that different…

Except, she was disposed while he was not. If she wanted to gain back that power she once had, stopping Voldermort would be it. And that, Harry figured, would be quite a fight …

But if they did fight each other, Harry began reasoning, wouldn't it not give us the mush needed advantage to bring Voldermort' down?

It was something he just had to share…

"She wouldn't stand a chance against…_Him_." McGonagall exclaimed. "He's one of the most powerful sorcerers of modern times!"

"You think Hazel doesn't know that?" Day smoothly countered. "I've never seen her turn away from anything that would make her more powerful than before—and I mean _anything_. She'd sell herself for the power to do. All she'd need is to get close enough to stick a knife into his back—"

"I still don't believe that's possible." McGonagall scoffed.

"_But what if they were to fight each other?_" Harry suddenly put in, when seeing the chance to. "From experience, they're about the same. And wouldn't Voldermort try to remove all obstacles in his path, before trying to get me?"

Both Headmistress and the Thief paused, staring at Harry with surprise that soon became calculated thought that worked away on Harry's suggestion.

"Look," Harry quickly injected. "Hazel is the perfect match for Voldermort, in everyway possible—though there are differences, like her use of muggle servants and guns. But if they did fight each other, wouldn't it be to our advantage?"

McGonagall's face tightened, while Day was really giving the ideal some earnest thought.

"Mister Potter—"

"I believe Harry has an interesting ideal." Dumbledore spoke from his portrait. "I also find the appearance of this woman in London to be rather troubling. Unless she has a tremendous thirst for revenge against Mr. Day, I would consider that she's here either to form an alliance with, or, somehow, and this is a rather extreme stretch of my imagination, try taking control of the situation for her benefit.

Dumbledore in the portrait then nodded towards Day. "You've stated that she was 'disposed' from power?"

Day nodded. "She was booted from Los Angeles, which she used to run the entire magical scene, this past spring."

"I understand there really isn't much of a legal commission handing magical affairs in that city?" Dumbledore modestly queried.

"There are officials, no better than your Ministry." Day answered.

The portrait Dumbledore considered that answer with a sad shrug and shake of his bearded head. "We all suffer under the corruption of those we've placed our trust to lead us."

He then glanced towards Day again. "The American Bureau Agents who are here, sirs Fredricks and Barnabus, along with Fred and George Weasley as well as you and Harry, are the only available people amongst us who can recognize her?"

"Ginny too." Harry put in.

The Dumbledore portrait turned smilingly to Harry, "Yes, I had forgotten her. Thank you Harry."

"That pretty much rounds out the cast." Day stated. "But Fred's in Hospital."

"There's enough available to make do." Dumbledore's portrait frowned slightly.

"You propose to look for this Bernadine Hazel?" McGonagall finally spoke up.

"Yes, Minerva." Dumbledore's portrait quietly told her. "I intend to use her."

_Albus Dumbledore may be dead and buried in that great white tomb out by the lake, but what he's left behind in his portrait was a highly formable_ _mind unafraid to take chances._

_Yes, chances. We didn't go over the details of his plan, at first he spoke to both Fred and Barney when they arrived in the office; carefully laying out the fact that for now they were to locate Hazel and keep under watch. There shouldn't be any trouble with Bone on the matter; he's spoken to him before while at the Ministry. (Apparently, there was a portrait of him there as well, as a sort of memorial.) If there were any troubles, he assured them, he'll get in contact with Bone right away. In fact, he would do exactly that once the Agents were on their way._

_Well, he didn't exactly…_

_When they left, he addressed Harry directly. "I'm sorry; I failed to obtain any information from Rowea Ravenclaw. Not that I won't try again, but she's too distraught at this time."_

_Harry took the news badly, but at least he didn't put up a fuss. It had been quite a long night for him. With all that hope rising up only to burst in his face, he was more stoic than I would have been…_

_Anyway, I had my own demon to fight._

_"You think Hazel came all the way from America just to take me?" Harry enquired as we neared the door to his dorm._

_"You've forgotten, I was there too." I told him._

_He nodded to that, and turned before the portrait door._

_And paused. _

_"I wish this would all end." He earnestly sighed. "It would be nice to finally live a normal life."_

_Depends upon what your definition of 'normal' was, I wanted to say. But when it finally formulated, he'd said his good-night and went into his dorm…_

_A 'normal' life. Quite a concept…_

_Pity we all can't have one._

The following morning was a bright and clear as all the previous ones had been so far, but the growing chill of autumn was making it felt. Still, snuggling under the warm blankets of his bed, gave Harry a pause from the reality persistently digging his every moment. But at last he'd haft to rise, entering once more the accelerated routine of this years school life with the others.

So far, Gryffindor hadn't suffered too badly from the attrition hitting the other Houses as students were becoming overwhelmed by the amount of work and the speed it was delivered to them. There were some first, second, and third years, who showed promise early, who tried to keep the pace with pure earnest, but many of them faltered and finally failed as they couldn't keep up with the more intelligent amongst them. Only Ravenclaw House could, and loudly did, boast that all of there's were keeping up and keeping up very nicely—as reflected in their total amount of points already accumulated by that time.

They were on their way to reaching Three Thousand.

But Gryffindor House banded together, shouldering the workload, and forging onward. Even Ron, notorious for doing his homework late, was right up to speed with everyone else and helping Hermione at the same time. Quite a feat, considering his own heavy school workload and helping his parents at the same time since George was getting dragged away a lot for his formulas. But the bags under his reddened eyes and definite frown hinted at his fatigue and short temperament, which was much more pronounced than everyone else.

But that Friday, everyone received a very pleasant surprise upon hurrying into the Great Hall for a rapid breakfast. There to greet them was a message board that plainly read:

**All Students:**

**Due to attrition amongst Students, classes are to start two hours later than previously noted.**

**Congratulations to those of you who've made it through the first month.**

"Blimey." Ron simply breathed out, absolutely perplexed by what he'd read.

Others, like Seamus, took a very dim view of the surprise by stating had they'd known they would have stayed in bed another hour. But Harry just took it all in stride smiling all the way to his place at the House Table, after piling his plate with enormous amounts of pancakes, sausages and eggs, then smothering it all under large amounts of syrup. He wasn't quite aware of it though, being lost in the bliss of having made it that far.

"Harry, some of us would like to have syrup too."

Harry blinked, and there was Ginny standing next to him and syrup running all over the table and across the front of his robes. The incident itself was terribly embarrassing, but not devastating as Ginny whipped out her wand uttering _tergeo tergo tersi tersum _all of the spillage was suddenly mopped up and put back into the container if it never was all of both Harry and the table.

"I learned that from Mum." She smiled down at Harry.

"Yes, because you kept spilling things allover the table." Ron viciously remarked with a telling grin.

That lead to Ginny spinning furiously about to tell her older brother what for, and for the next ten minutes trying to get them apart while hoping to not attract the attention of the monitors, or their fellow students, and settled down. Even while taking an active part of pulling, and finally setting Ginny down in the chair next to his, Harry took the entire matter in stride—enjoying the diversion from the intensely serious regimen of the past several weeks.

So when he finally sat down, he was very much surprised to find the latest issue of the _Daily Prophet,_ neatly rolled and tied for Owl Post delivery, sitting there between himself and his plate…

With the front page headline glaring at him, reading;

Hogwarts Scandal!!!

Numerous felons identified among the new instructors at Hogwarts!

Another Exclusive Report by Rita Skeeter!

_Oh, what now_, Harry miserably wondered.

9


	51. Chapter 51

Chapter Fifty-one.

It was Crabbe and Goyle. There wasn't anyone else at the Slytherin Table who'd do such a thing. Harry could see them making no effort to hide their glee as they faced him from the Slytherin Table. Nott was just entering the room, and everybody else of that House was eating their breakfast without noticing what was going on.

"Harry, don't"

Ginny softly spoke the words while discreetly removing the offending paper for Harry's presence. Nobody at Gryffindor table noticed this or what it did to Harry, being busy with their breakfasts, and the two offenders from Slytherin were dealing with Nott's presence. Only Ginny did, and quickly did something about it.

"Please…Enjoy your breakfast." She quietly continued. "Don't let them bother you."

For Harry that was difficult; even without Malfory around the two, surprisingly, were able to get under his skin without their Master's help. If that meant they did actually did possess intelligence between them, then what else could they do?

It was a simple enough trick that didn't require a lot of brain to do, and neither had enough to form a functional one to begin with. At least take Ginny's advice and try enjoying breakfast, Harry forcefully reminded himself, who knows what else they'd try to do…

As he was starting to, the Owls arrived. Bearing letters in their beaks or packages in their claws, they were such a common sight by now none of the students reacted with any measure of surprise at their arrival. Even Harry, who focused on eating his breakfast without pause for the event. With Hedwig dead and nobody else outside of Hogwarts to communicate with, he'd get nothing from the morning deliveries. And if there was something coming for him, he'd only get it once it had passed thought the hands of the Aurors and McGonagall. If there was anything, he'd get it later, he assured himself while forking cut pieces of pancakes into his mouth, if there was anything…

And just about strangled on those pancakes, spitting them back onto his plate, when the large, gray, official looking Owl landed before him with a small letter in it's beak that bore the seal of Hogwarts on its cover with his name in gold beneath.

Nor was it just him at the Table, everyone at Gryffindor Table was receiving one, and the commotion caused by the all those Owls jostling themselves to deliver their letters before flying off decorated many a table and student's breakfast with gray and white feathers. Slytherin Table was spared this calamity; it only had one Owl much to Nott's earnest surprise.

As Harry reached across his now spoiled breakfast for his letter, Ron, who already had his and read it, exclaimed, "_Oi! We're goin' to the Danger Room at ten!_"

Harry's said the same thing, including a short list of special for the students to follow. And while reading his letter, Harry glimpsed Nott looking right at him form his.

When the appointed time came, the students of Gryffindor House, with Nott in tow, presented themselves to a waiting Professor McGonagall at the fourth floor landing outside the doors to the Danger Room. They came following the requirements on the letters they received that morning: _Bring no books, scrolls or quills, or wear your School Robes. Bring only your wands, concealed within your common clothes…_

They assembled as such, looking more like Muggles than Hogwarts students, before an approving McGonagall who began to speak.

"The purpose of this Spot Exam is—"

Several low, dispiriting moans broke out form the students before her as their expressions showed their dismay at facing such a largely unwelcomed surprise to what was an else wise good day. Infuriated, McGonagall repeated he explanation in a more commanding tone; "The Purpose of Today's Examination Is to Test Your Abilities in a Simulation of Actual Magical Combat"

When they quieted down with miserable looks on their faces, she continued in stern tones after a deep breath; "You may use whatever spells, jinxes, and counter spells that you know--while concealing what you really are, just as you would while among real Muggles.

"This is also a test of Duration. The Exam will last for as long as you are either able to act, or find a safe haven to hide in. And, you will be graded upon the actions you take."

Slowly, McGonagall brought up her wand, and the entry way to the Room was opened.

"Enter and proceed directly to the Door." She commanded. "And no slouching."

The assembled students entered in a slow, reluctant pace, proceeding directly to the double-doors as commanded were Skywise was waiting with a scroll-wielding Auror. Harry glanced around the wood and brass entry way as he was swept along. There were people in the observation room, but he couldn't tell who they were.

"The first five of you through, _now_!" Skywise barked, looking more serious than ever. The students were being broken up into small groups, Harry realized. Sometimes five would go through the double doors, other times only two or three with an occasional four being rushed through while the Auror rapidly scribbled down the names of those who went. And at each opening of those doors, there would be a different view; sometimes a city street, sometimes the lobby of an office building, along with school grounds, alleyways, farm fields, shopping arcades and quiet neighborhoods. Nobody argued, especially with McGonagall standing nearby, but there were students whose nervous and worried questions were quickly and directly answered by Skywise at the door.

"_It's a test!_" Skywise barked back before shoving them through. "You'll know what to do, if you bothered listening!"

With Ginny worriedly gripping his hand, Harry himself wondered where he'd end up with or without Ginny.

Soon enough, right after a group of five that included Dean and Shamus entered what appeared to be a library, the doors opened to a park. Harry and Ginny just stood at the threshold from the surprise.

"_Move!_" Skywise yelled at them, and they did.

It was mid-day, or near enough, Harry guessed, figuring if it was Ten a.m. at Hogwarts then time maybe the same here in the simulation. The Sun was high and bright, the air crisp with an annoying chill, and the leaves already turned with those that had already fallen covering both the grass and the concrete walkways in significant numbers. With none of the other park inhabitants noticing the young couple standing there hand in hand in the middle of things, Harry started looking around to see if he recognized anything from the real world. He knew where London was, and like any schooled child was showed the city's numerous landmarks, their locations and their learned histories until he could both recognize and locate them. But actual experience of being in London was sorely limited to those strict times when the Dursley's couldn't leave him with Miss Frigg. They personally wouldn't have cared if he 'vanished' on them during one such excursion, but having to deal with the Police on the matter was something they dreaded even more.

"What now?" Ginny asked in bewilderment. "Do we wait for something to happen, or do we go look for it?"

_Excellent question_, Harry reflected. It only took him a minute to come up with a suitable answer; "First, we need to figure where we are. Then, start making our way to the nearest safe haven."

"How about just heading north?" Ginny suggested.

The ideal did have merit, Harry quickly considered. There were several smaller Wizarding Communities along the city's northern reaches, hidden away by uncharitable spells. But then he dismissed it just as fast. _What if they weren't in London_, he realized. For all they knew they were in a park on a clear mid-autumn day, which could be either in England, the European Continent, or America. Harry recalled lessons that pointed out where the Wizarding Communities were in those lands, just not very clearly. And that left him to fall back upon what he learned in primary school.

"If you can find a map, or a Policeman, it would help in telling us where we are."

"They might think us mad, Harry." Ginny plainly told him.

"Not if we politely ask." Harry replied. "The Police are supposed to be helpful, especially to people who've lost their bearings. Besides, I'm not so certain we're in London."

"If so," Ginny began, "Then why not Ap—oh."

After realizing what she was a bout to suggest with plain embarrassment. "To Apparate, we'll need to know _where we are_ in relation _to where we_ want to go…"

"And we can't do it around Muggles." Harry reminded her. "That's if we can in here. For all we know, the Anti-Apparition spells are still in place."

And that pretty ended the conversation for the time until, after picking a general direction to walk in, they came upon the park's edge and the nearly deserted roadway beyond. Down to their right was a bus stop, a simple metal post set into the concrete of the sidewalk with placards giving the routes' number and what looked like a route line map beneath it.

"Perfect." Harry grinned and started towards it with Ginny following behind.

There was a map, simple in design, showing the bus route in blue with other connecting routes, shown by their respective number in a box, and the roads they went down with indicators of where Underground stations were along the route marked by gold stars.

"Salisbury Road." He read while tracing his finger downward on the route's path. "We're just north of West Kilburn. That would put the center of London to the southeast."

"Harry?"

He turned to Ginny, blinking with surprise.

"Don't these Stop's run on money?" She asked. "I just realized it."

That made Harry pause. Yes, they did. And the simulation would have that as an obstacle they had to react to. He had some assorted money in his pockets, both muggle and Wizarding, but not enough when he pulled it out to check as according to the placard sign.

"Oh dear…"

"Keep a look out, love." Ginny told him. Whit a careful look around herself, Ginny dug out a modest handful of Wizarding coins from one skirt pocket and her wand from the other opposite pocket. All it took was a few moments and the silent tap of a wand on what she had in her hand to transform it into a modest wad of used Pound notes in her slender hand.

Smiling up at Harry's astonishment, she explained, "Dad's always been fascinated with Muggle things…And Transfiguration is something we can do here, isn't it?"

"Oh it is." Harry grinned, reaching for the money. "It is."

Then in the distance to both the south and east, several muffled explosions could be herd.

8


	52. Chapter 52

Chapter Fifty-two.

The fireballs rose quickly into the clear sky, mushrooming out in sinister displays of black and bright red forming the all too familiar sign of the Dark Mark looming in the clear sky.

"Oh they can't be serious." Harry absently muttered.

"I'm afraid they are." Ginny cringed. "Remember what they said before putting us here?"

Harry recalled everything; it was an exam, they could use whatever magic they wanted—as long as they didn't do it around Muggles, and that it was a duration test which whatever they did would be graded on which would end either when they reached a 'safe haven' or…

"We'll need to keep one step ahead of them to pass this." He told Ginny. "We haft to stay alive in this."

"No fighting?" Ginny worriedly responded.

"Unless we can't avoid it." He replied, looking back at the map. "There are two Underground Stations near us, one to the south the other to the north."

"The closest?" Ginny worriedly asked.

In the distance, more explosions with the blare of car horns and the sharp cries of enraged dragons. Oh, this was going to be some exam, Harry through.

"North!" Harry snapped and quickly they ran southward, until reaching the northern end of the park where several more, and much closer, explosions occurred—caused by dark robed figures riding on brooms in broad daylight.

"Back into the Park!" Harry quickly directed. There was a dense grouping of trees near-by, and there they hid as they considered what to do next. There was no way they could stand and fight off the invasion of this size. For something like this, Voldemort would have managed to recruit most of the Wizards and Witches from the European Continent and beyond—along with raiding most of the Dragon Reserves there in. Not impossible, given time. Just here it had to be taken for granted.

Hiding was the best option all-around. But with people now pouring out of the surrounding buildings and into the streets wondering what was going on, the matter of running through that compacted assembly without anything to hide under was simply mad. And soon enough, green beams of magical energy struck downwardly slicing through the unsuspecting crowd killing many just as swiftly as they'd struck. Others weren't so lucky, for as their fellows were falling to the killing curses they were hit by red beams that made them, parked cars and surrounding buildings burst into flame. Even the asphalt of the road bubbled up into a dark molten mass, trapping some in a hideous death. Then the beams started towards the trees Harry and Ginny were hiding under. He grabbed her and quickly rolled away from the spot moments before a red beam slashed through making trees to explode in brilliant flames, showing them with burning embers that dug into their clothes and hair while heated air and thick smoke made them cough profusely with burning lungs and stinging eyes. No more a safe haven, they somehow stumbled through the burning patch to the shattered street outside covered with dead bodies and burning automobiles scattered everywhere bordered by burning building rubble. The heavy smoke form all of this, that made them fight for every breath, until Ginny managed to make a filtered bubble-head charm for them both, ironically gave them the cover from what was flying overhead. Dragons, Harry reasoned, from the sharp growling calls they could hear.

The level of realism, he had to admit, was absolutely fantastic. They couldn't have done a better job of destroying London in such a shocking manner, outside of an effects laden movie. They estimated on Voldemort unleashing his deepest, darkest desires for what he wanted to do to Muggles. But even keeping that in mind, it was hard to keep from being sick when coming across the more mangled and crushed bodies—especially those seen in the burning wreckage of cars and buildings. Worse, was the baby in the burning carriage, which drove Ginny into sobbing hysterics. Harry had to half carry, half drag her past that part to an alley between two still standing buildings where he worked on calming her down.

"But Harry….Its just…just." She choked out between sobs before breaking down and crying into the front of his soot stained sweater for several minutes until she couldn't speak any more.

The Kilburn Underground Station lay as ruined as the surrounding neighborhood, covered from above by patchy clouds of smoke, but there were people stumbling around outside its ruins dazed and injured. Harry watched from the ruined building that was across the street. There were no Death Eaters riding brooms overhead, and the cries of their Dragons were distant to the east and south. Still, Harry wasn't about to take chances with either Ginny or London was now certainly out of the question. Both the Ministry and St. Mungo's would have been the first things attacked along with the general muggle population. Heading there was simply suicidal, and exam or not he wasn't about to risk either Ginny's or his own life on something that stupid.

But what of the others? He wondered. Broken up and scattered throughout this faux-London, how many of them made it this far—or failed. Harry didn't know of a way to contact them magically, nor did Ginny, trying to calm herself down, know of.

_So this is what it's like when you're really on your own, _Harry grimly though; _No friends. No help. _Granted, Ginny was with him, and soon they would both cross the street to an Underground Station where he hoped to find directions to the place he was heading for. It was the fact that his actions would determine the outcome of this exam…As if it were real.

"You know where we're going, Harry?" Ginny wonderingly asked.

"13 Grimmauld Place." Harry instantly answered.

Seconds passed before Ginny came back with, "Wouldn't it be better to leave London? I have relatives in the—"

Harry turned, asking, "Do you think the Danger Room can stretch that far?"

"It's Magic." Ginny bluntly countered. "It'll stretch forever if nessicarry. Besides, why go there when it's been abandoned by the Order?"

"Ginny, _this isn't really London--it's a test_." He told her has gently as he could. "In real London, I wouldn't go there because I wouldn't be sure if any of Sirius's 'distant' relatives wouldn't have tried reclaiming the place…Especially with Kreacher's help." The thought of that House Elf, its attitude and oblivious dislike of Sirius, made him shiver a little. Once regathering himself, Harry continued. "But this isn't London, and I figure 13 Grimmauld would be a safe haven as any. Besides, I figure Ron and Hermione would be trying for it as well. So, all we'd have to do is keep our heads down and be careful—and we'll make it."

Ginny didn't appear convinced by the logic. But every time she appeared to voice an argumentative rebuttal, she would hesitate with a look of realization before frowning in anger that whatever argument she was going to launch at him would be struck down. This went on for several minutes that tested Harry's patience greatly. Back and forth, back and forth she'd go—before finally throwing her hands up into the air with an angry growl, "_Fine…Fine! Let's go then!_"

And fuming, followed Harry across the fractured street to the Underground Station.

From his experiences of riding the Underground as a child, Harry knew there was a map of London in every station. Not very detailed, but serviceable for the immediate area. All he needed to do was to find where Grimmauld Place was, then figure which tunnel to take.

It was quite an ingenious ideal. Harry figured that by using the Underground's train tunnels, they could safely cover most of the distance to Grimmauld Place without being seen. Also, they weren't in any danger of using magic around Muggles. Since most of them would be too busy with trying to leave the Underground anyway, Harry figured there wouldn't be too many witnesses to their magic use in the tunnels…

Once inside the station, Harry saw his plan fall apart.

The air in the station was thick with slowly settling dust, and its lighting was sporadic, reduced to a few overheads which dazed people were found sitting under as electrical sparks rained down from other darkened ceiling niches while even more dazed stumbled around in the semi-darkness. And all of this to the soothing classical music coming from still functional speakers. But that didn't make Harry pause in the middle of all this. The map he figured on using was there and unscathed. But before it was a loud jostling mass were people trying to use it to find their own way to somewhere, the lights of their cell phones and watches, and whatever else could be used to produce readable light, giving it a weird pulsating glow of soft blue and harsh yellow from all the jostling around.

"I suppose _that's_ the map you wanted to use?" Ginny sarcastically asked.

That really wasn't called for. Ron's dear sister, or the person he was deeply attracted to, or not, for a moment the urge to simply tell her off was strong enough to prevent his common sense for interfering. He turned to yell about her childishness, but as doing so spotted an Information Booth at the Station's far end…

Not only did The-Beast-Within shrink away with him, it did so with a sock jammed firmly down its throat.

"Come on!" Harry snapped, dragging Ginny along by the arm to the booth.

The old woman manning the small booth sat there with a not altogether there stare of someone whose world had been forcefully rearranged into a more devastated one, and there was nothing she could do about it.

"London you say?" she blankly responded to Harry's request.

"Yes. You do have good map of it?"

The Maps in question were still neatly held in a wall rack on her right. But instead of simply turning that way, she stared left slowly searching the racks of candy bars and peanut bags knocking some of them off their hangers before moving on to the aspirin and bandages directly behind her. After traipsing through them for a few minutes, she finally faced the maps. An Imperious Curse would have moved her along faster, had she not been in shock and Harry didn't know how to work one yet. Then again, if he had done such, the woman would have been more difficult to control due to her disengaged state—so an instructor explained another time ago.

So he stood there, gritting his teeth while knowing Ginny was becoming very impatient standing at his side. There was a map for Islington there, easily seen in the middle of the rack. He had to wait as the shell-shocked woman looked blankly at it for several minutes before slowly reaching out, grasping and pulling the map out, then turning to give it to Harry.

"Thank you." Harry relieved said, handing over the roll of bills Ginny made earlier. "Keep the change."

And they left the woman standing there with a hand full of bills without knowing what to do.

Once away, Ginny finally snapped; "I still think we should have gone north. Even if the Room doesn't stretch that far, leaving the city's reach would have qualified as safe haven."

Grimmauld Place was on the map, in Islington just south of a small park there.

The tunnel leading to Islington was the first one off the platform, with a train ready to go down it but not moving in the very near future. Harry discovered this just before Ginny's remarks, and once again facing the real possibility of really loosing his temper with her, when screams flowed down the stairwell from the outside that were quickly silenced by a great blooming ball of fire that engulfed the entrance and all around it.

Then there was the unmistakable roar of a Dragon, whose dark scaly head and shoulders busted through the fiery entrance before dousing the entire length of the station with its flaming breath. Harry didn't wait for permission; he dragged Ginny over the edge of the platform and into the Islington Tunnel just before the fire hit the tunnel's edge.

8


	53. Chapter 53

Chapter Fifty-three.

The Way it Goes.

They ran, stumbling repeatedly upon the metal tracks, their supports and whatever other garbage that was down along the tracks only to swiftly pick themselves back up and run further from the light of the Dragon's fire. For if they were seen running into the tunnel, or, if those who handled the Dragon wanted to be really certain, one good lengthy blast of dragon's fire in the tunnel's confines would immolate everything in there for quite a distance. Neither Harry or Ginny considered themselves cowardly, especially after all they've gone through in their young lives already, but discretion, especially with Dragons, merited their flight. And they ran until they couldn't run any further.

By then, the only sounds they could hear were of their own heavy breathing with the occasional snivel from Ginny as Harry held her closely against him. In the darkness of the tunnel, that's all there was. Not even the squeak of a mouse or rat. _Oh they were doing a really good job with this exam_, Harry reasoned to himself, _all very right and proper._ He'd never been more scared in his whole life…

"Harry?"

Ginny's voice came softly from the darkness. Even with her head on his chest, Harry raised his wand managing to mentally conjure light from it without thinking showing a small, dirty tear-stained face surrounded and partially covered by a tangled mess of long red hair. She was trying to smile.

"I'm…not so…sure…we could have…made it…going north." Ginny hesitantly choked out.

He paused for a moment, gazing at her filthy face glowing in the wand light.

"It's ok." He smiled back. "It's ok…"

It would have been so easy to sleep there. Never mind how uncomfortable sitting on the ground with his back against the tunnel was, or that Ginny was lying on top of him in the darkness. Nor bother with their aches and bruises suffered from falling against everything there was in the tunnel, even their lighted wands showing them the way. Yes it would have been very easy to close their eyes, and, if not for just a few hours, be somewhere else far from all of this…

But no, Harry knew that to pass the exam they had to keep moving until finding safe-haven. Every moment of inactivity gave the Death Eaters more opportunity to find them, he reasoned. These 'Hunting Parties' would swiftly deal with any Muggles, and anyone capable of opposing them, that survived the initial onslaught.

Now would be the time for a dose of Pepper-up potion, he mused, as he shifted himself to pull the map that he stuffed in his pants pocket.

Ginny, suddenly stirred out of her restful pose, sprang to life with wand ready.

"Easy." Harry gently told her. "I need to check the map."

One-thousand meters, that's the distance Harry measured on the map from the nearest Underground station to where Grimmauld Place was.

As for where they were in the Underground System, that took time and plenty of walking through dark tunnels and destroyed Stations before finding one that was intact enough to give them a clue amid all the rubble. The Death Eaters and their Dragons didn't leave much behind, seemingly very intent upon whipping all Muggle existence from the Earth.

"Easton Station." Harry quickly looked it up on his map as Ginny looted the torn apart vending machines bags of crisps, cookies, and assorted candies. Some others had soda cans, still cold and unopened despite the beating their machine took. Another machine, surprisingly standing upright with its glass face completely smashed, contained clear plastic water bottles sitting in the slots of a multi level rotisserie.

"Is that closer?" Ginny asked, with arms filled with snacks.

Harry frowned. "Farther. We'll need to head back north, then east."

"Well help hold some of this, would you?

While his arms were bigger and longer than Ginny's, he had trouble keeping all the little packages from tumbling to the ground. That made him start looking for the means to carry them and the bottles Ginny was getting from the two drink machines. A Levitation spell would work, but the though of spending that much magic on so many little things would leave them short in the event of facing any real trouble along the way.

The most convenient thing he could find, without moving too far away from Ginny, was a large purse whose strap was still being clutched in its owners' hand--who was buried under heavy chunks of rubble. _Accio_ worked, but it didn't free the bag from the grip. Harry glanced over his shoulder back at Ginny, who was juggling several bottles and cans. She would be almost finished doing that, so Harry had to rush…

_Alohomora, _he mentally conjured upon the gripping hand. It snapped back as it the strap were suddenly fiery hot, and Harry quickly picked up and put the snacks into the purse just in time to catch Ginny turning to him with a full armload of water bottles.

He had hoped the Underground would take them all the way into Islington itself, but numerous cave-in's ended that—especially when attempting to remove the blockage only resulted in more of the tunnel collapsing on them. That forced them back to the last station they went through; Camden Town, next to Islington, but at double the distance to Grimmauld. So once above ground, they carefully they picked their way along the burnout buildings and scores of the dead lying in the streets. Ginny didn't fret like the last time, and Harry found that by simply concentrating on where he was going and not lingering on the carnage around them he could function much better. Except that for both, the occasional distant roar of a Dragon made them keep a wary eye upon the reddish sky while hiding where ever they could.

And despite the deliberate carnage all around them, here and there were automobiles in perfect condition; unscratched and undamaged, just sting along the sides of the street. With all of the pains taken by the Death Eaters to kill and destroy, missing such an easy target was incredibly odd. And yes, it would be helpful to cover the remaining distance they had to Grimmauld Place more quickly than by foot, but Harry didn't yield to the urge to take one because in doing so they would be easily spotted by any Death Eater flying above. In spite all of it being fake; he couldn't put aside the repugnance of driving over dead bodies lying in the street and on the sidewalks.

So, they kept walking…Carefully.

By late afternoon, or so it seamed, they came upon the remains of a hastily assembled defensive attempt by the military to protect that portion of the City. Several soldiers in a variety of jeeps, trucks and a eight-wheeled armored car had blocked off a major street in the attempt and died amongst their smoldering vehicles—though the large armored car appeared to be reasonably intact, with its rear doors open and a fully equipped soldier sprawled face-down dead at it's entrance.

Harry paused, looking…Considering.

"Harry?" Ginny wondered.

He didn't respond at first, standing there quietly figuring things before turning to Ginny.

"How much food is left?" he asked.

Ginny, who had been carrying the snack-packed purse on her left shoulder, opened it up to see and fish around in. "There's some bags of crisps and candy. I'm afraid we've eaten the last of the cookies, but we have plenty of water."

"Well," Harry supposed, "it wouldn't hurt to see what they've got." Then turned and walked in earnest towards the armored car.

"Harry?"

"We're going to need supplies." He briskly explained over his shoulder as Ginny started catching up to him. "We'll need to be ready, for anything. And we are supposed to be acting like this is real, right?"

And he slipped into the armored car before Ginny could say anything more except fume, "Marvelous.", at the doorway. Even the dead body at her feet didn't bother her at all.

"Besides." Harry spoke out to her from the car's interior, "Aren't you feeling just a little bit hungry?"

It was cruel to needle her, he knew. But really, what they were able to find from smashed convenience machines wasn't much and there might not be another place to find anything useful that was so conveniently available along their way. Besides, Harry hated the so-called Brownie Cookies; they tasted well past their prime and left an aftertaste in his mouth that wasn't enjoyable. What he wanted was something more filling, something closer to real food. Military rations weren't too terribly high on his personal list, but if they proved to be better than the coin machine fare he'd put them there.

"Well," she sighed, "I am feeling a little peckish."

Locating the food rations took a little while long than Harry expected. With more cabinets than the Dursley's Kitchen, they came across the medical kit, the weapons locker, spare munitions, maps and a tool box before finally locating the large cardboard box containing not only the condensed rations (just add water) but also the heating apparatus with several tuna-can sized heating units and a foldable stand which to heat them on. It was marveling that such a vehicle had so much crammed into it, just as much as Ginny holding the tall, rectangular shaped milk carton sized container of condensed Beef Casserole with Noodles and Sauce that could serve twelve, after being cooked for thirty minutes, with a very puzzled look on her dirty face. There were several more packages like that, some the same and other different, and a few containing only eggs, biscuits, sausages, and bacon along with a neat little collapsible kitchen. Harry had to wonder who came up with this, since no Wizard or Witch he knew could have planned such out to such detail as this…Or maybe not.

"We'll figure it out later." He shrugged.

Taking all they wanted didn't take too long, but there was far more than what either their pockets or the purse could hold. And nothing in the Armored Car that was suitable enough to carry the rest easily, except for the back pack of the dead solider lying just outside the rear door. That, Harry took upon himself to do with considerable grimness as Ginny kept watch with both their wands ready. The soldier's rifle, a very new bull-pup design issued to all British soldiers was lying just with in the doorway where Harry could get to it if things happened suddenly. There were spells that could have been used, if he'd been quicker to think about it. When hid finally realized that, the backpack and accompanying equipment harness was nearly free of its late owner. Ok, fine, Harry reasoned with himself, he wasn't thinking too clearly. In fact, he was starting to hurry himself along in a panic; they had been out in the open too long. Sooner or later, someone was bound to see them.

It was the scrape of a heel on the asphalt outside that told them they had stayed too long. Ginny stiffened as he did, but she brought her wand around much faster while Harry had his in one hand and the assault rifle in the other. Raising it up as the first masked Death Eater came into view on her side…

"_Stupify!_" Ginny quickly cried striking that Death Eater in the chest with a purple beam from her wand just as a second one appeared on Harry's side. He took care of him in the same manner, but a third quickly snuck in on the opposite side and hit Harry's wand hand with a yellow beam that stung painfully causing him to drop his wand. Ginny was turning to face this new threat, but there were too many and she wouldn't be fast enough to fend it off. Harry grabbed the rifle and sprayed the area where the Death Eaters were with a hail of bullets while bearing the pain. The weapon wiggled crazily like water from a hose in his hurting hand, while roaring louder than Uncle Vernon did on a good day until firing its last bullet. But it did what Harry wanted: the Death Eaters were vanquished, leaving Ginny safe and able enough to deal with the remaining ones.

Harry quickly reached for another loaded clip, there were several in an opened box near the door that his wand had landed in. Even with his ears ringing from the noise, he could easily hear Ginny yell, "_There are more of them coming!_"

Six total, all grouped together, coming from around the far corner on his side and firing at them not too accurately but enough to make them seek cover within the vehicle. They tried shooting back, but the green beams forced them to retreat from the door.

"Ginny!" Harry yelled. "Get to the drivers seat! _Start this vehicle!_"

"_What?!_" she yelled back.

It was a silly ideal, but the armored car's designers failed to add a side door to the vehicle. And there was nothing else Harry could think of to do to get them out of this predicament.

_"START THIS VEHICAL UP!"_ he roared.

This time, Ginny did what she was told without argument, while Harry was trying to fire back at the on coming group with one hand while grabbing his fallen wand with the other as green beams that struck the cabinets around him with fiery violence. One Death Eater's shot managed to hit one of the two rear doors of the vehicle, violently slamming it shut before Harry who conveniently used it to shield himself from the onslaught while firing the rifle and spells in their general direction. The flames blocked his view of the attackers, but it also prevented them from seeing him. Then the armored car roared to life and charged forward, pressing Harry against the armored door.

"Harry! I can barely see where I'm going!" Ginny shrieked back.

He turned, just in time to see the tree Ginny hit a moment later. Her face slammed against the steering wheel as he was thrown to the vehicles' floor. Death Eaters outside were shouting, and Harry quickly pulled himself up running to where Ginny was holding her nose with both hands while blood was trickling down her front.

But her foot was still on the accelerator. More thinking than wondering, Harry gripped the steering wheel and jammed the shift into reverse. At once from the rear came two distinctive cries of alarm followed by crunching sounds that he'd rather not guess at and quickly shifted the vehicle into drive and hung on to the steering wheel as they now charged forward with the engine screaming down the deserted streets…

"_Ow! 'arry!_" Ginny painfully wailed.

There were bandages of several kinds in the kit; from the simple adhesive Harry was well versed with to larger bandages and wraps that he needed to read the instructions on to both figure out and use. And even then, his clumsy attempts caused her more pain than intended.

"_Wot it!_" she wailed. "_'Aye 'ant bree-eeth too well!_"

"Sorry, sorry." Harry nervously apologized, trying to keep the large bandages in places with very liberal amounts of tape and a roll-wrap so it wouldn't fall off or leak anymore blood. "Just a little while longer, Ginny. Try breathing through your mouth."

After a crazy run through the city, they finally managed to stop the armored car near an intersection where Harry started his best to help Ginny. But in all, he realized, he'd never be a healer the way it was turning out.

"'Win _'aye doo. It f-eels 'ike 'aye 'ave a bro-kin 'ooth_."

That Harry didn't know what to do about that, but was very proud of what he was able to do with the bandage covering Ginny's broken nose. With that done, he looked to the map trying to find where they were by the street sign still standing ahead of them.

"Emmerett Way." Harry muttered. It took several minutes and the index to locate it, but only a moment to finally gain his bearings…

"We're just south of Grimmauld Place." He pointed out to her.

"_'Ine. 'Rate! Then let's go._" Ginny irritably growled while working herself off the seat. Gathering up all they came with took no time at all, and after a quick look to the sky proceeded across the street to an alley on the other side…

That's when four Death Eaters suddenly emerged from that very alley before them with wands drawn.

11


	54. Chapter 54

Chapter Fifty-four.

Fallout.

Dumbledore wasn't in his portrait, but all those who were simply looked down upon Harry with betrayed hope. Except for Phineas Black, whose picture McGonagall swiftly took down and turned face towards the wall because he kept interfering with things too much. Finally, she took off her cloak and wrapped it around the portrait to finally silence him.

"There will be a review for Gryffindor House immediately after breakfast, tomorrow." A very disappointed McGonagall directly told Harry with a sharp edge in her voice. "And, by this time on that same day, I shall expect from you, and the others who failed as well, a lengthy scroll explaining your carelessness during this Exam."

McGonagall sat there behind her desk with a very cold stare at Harry, and oblivious anger on her face. She did not give him a chance to explain. Every time he tried explaining himself in defense, she'd raise her voice even louder while scolding him about his performance.

There was some reason to it; they were all so hoping he'd succeed, and given what he'd already been through that wasn't too reasonable to assume. But he didn't, and neither did most of his Gryffindor, as McGonagall so directly told him, did. They were all failures, many in the most spectacular way possible while others simply made very stupid mistakes that even in reality would have killed them. She didn't try hiding anything; she was clearly upset with all of them.

Especially Harry.

"I am just thankful that this was a _test_ and not an actual battle with…_Him!_" She exclaimed before angrily dismissing Harry from the office.

Outside in the hall, Harry felt devastated, wondering how things could have gone wrong. He and Ginny were careful every step of the way through the ruins, dealing with problems directly when they appeared, except for those Death Eaters who suddenly appeared out of the alley before them. But how? Even as he drove the armored car, Harry always kept an eye up to the sky looking for them. There was no indication of being seen. The Death Eaters just appeared…_So what happened?_

That last though left him confused and angry, one he especially dwelled upon while heading back to his House. _There was nobody above us. There was nobody following us. They just appeared from that alley!! _He angrily considered. _"It wasn't fair at all!!"_

Moving through the hallways of the school in angry silence, it was fortunate that there weren't too many there to see him and none to speak with him. Not even the Fat Lady's portrait said anything when he stood before it. It just swung open, letting him into a Common Room full of bitter, angry and injured people very much like him.

For the moment, Harry didn't know what to think.

"So how you buy it, Harry?" Ron sourly asked. There was a large wrapped bandage on his forehead, and next to him in an adjoining easy chair was an equally sour and messy Hermione, holding a large cloth against her left eye. Everybody else in the room just quietly regarded Harry sullenly from many different places. Harry looked at them all with his own anger fading.

When he turned to Ron, he finally answered; "Four Death Eaters surprised Ginny and me in an Alley."

Ron's frown became even more bitter. "I got it with a fuc—"

Hermione quickly slapped her left hand upon his wrist while glaring sharply at him. It was easy to see why; in stopping Ron's profanity laced explanation she inadvertently revealed the very promenade black-eye she had. After a few tense moments of looking at her, Ron controlled continued, "Chandler…A…_Fancy_ _Chandler_."

Ron's story of being trapped and 'killed' under a very ornate chandler, while in the middle of a panicked stampede in a shopping galleria, when it was blown off it's ceiling mountings did have a comical irony to it. And Hermione's disgust at not being able to get a spell off even to protect them from it, added more insult to their injuries.

And it didn't stop there. After Ron, Seamus and Dean told of their misfortune in the City's heart; when the attack started, they immediately headed to the Ministry which was very near their position—except for the bus collision that bottled them up behind a very large group of "idiots", as Seamus called them.

"They were just standing there in mass, jamming everything up pretty good while gawking," He bitterly remarked, "that they didn't even notice the Death Eaters riding down on them from above."

Lee had the misfortune to be detained by the Security Officers hired by the company of whose property he found himself on with three Fourth years, they met their misfortune while being escorted, in handcuffs, to awaiting police cars. Another, a third year whose name Harry didn't quite get, bitterly recounted his run-in with a Lorry while crossing the street…

And the tale of a first year girl, covered with bandages, being trampled to death by panicked people was simply tragic.

On and on it went; bad-luck, misfortune and surprise made them, some of whom Harry considered better than he was, fail the exam. As story after story went on, Harry became aware that not everyone from the house was here. Three, four? He mentally counted against a mental list of those he knew were in the Advanced Class. Ginny was in the Infirmary, and Nott was most probably there or back in his own House—grumbling about his own failures, so Harry figured.

_Yes, four…Definitely four._

"There still some of this House in the Exam?" Harry hopefully wondered.

And for his effort, he got shrugs and shaking heads in response for the most part.

As well as information. "The Creevey's' and Patil's were stuck with Nott." One boy said.

"And N-N-Neville was w-w-was w-w-with Ron and I." Hermione softly stammered out. "He w-w-was h-h-hurt v-v-very badly…H-h-he's in the Infirmary."

It wouldn't have taken long for Ginny's nose to be repaired. A simple application of mending spells, with a large bandage, would have done it for a week and she would be herself again. But when Harry entered the busy infirmary, she was still sitting on the bench, with all the others who had minor injuries, waiting to be attended to—but now with a better bandage across her face. There was no way to argue about the treatment either; Harry could see numerous Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students, in varying degrees of distress, on floating stretchers being carried through the doors of Doc's Tardis with bandages limbs, heads and bodies undoubtedly on their was to St Mungo's'.

"Hi ya, Harry. I see you lucked out."

He turned, started by the attentive voice, to see Luna Lovegood hobble towards him while favoring her left foot as much as possible. She was a mess from her tangled bold hair that partially obscured her dirty and scratched face to her torn and dishelmed clothing.

"What happened?" Harry slowly spoke.

"Got pushed down a flight of metal stairs by a mob of panicked Muggles, and then sprained my ankle while stepping onto curbs…That is what you call them, right?"

"_Curb_." Harry gently told her. "We refer to them in the singular."

"Right, well, anyway." She boldly continued, "While struggling with my pain after that, I get knocked down again and trod upon by another large group of panicked Muggles before the building I was near explodes with lots of fire and collapses upon me."

Then with a huff, she brushed away the hair that was dangling over her face.

"Father's going to have a field day with this." She defiantly began. "_Hogwarts attempting to kill as many of its top students with Staged War…_With the _Prophet_ along, it'll sure raise a storm."

"Then what else can we use to see how well you've learned your lessons?"

Dolly was standing there before them, with hands on hips and a very unfriendly expression on her face directed towards Luna.

"And," she continued, "what makes you think the real thing will be so cut-in-dry simple? You're going to be faced with panicking people, who'll be thinking their feet—especially after the first explosions."

"Well, it didn't make much sense if we were all killed off so quickly." Luna sharply countered. "I mean, what would be the point in killing us off so quickly?"

For a moment Dolly's eyes flared with anger, then it ripped across her face as she responded. "The whole point of the test was to see how ready you would be in such situations."

"Well, we could have been given fair warning about that—right?" Luna again countered.

"_That_ never happens in reality." Dolly frowned back. "All you can be is prepared to act when such happens—_that's_ what the test reflected."

Luna was ready to launch another rebuttal, but an orderly came up from behind her. No doubt the argument was attracting a lot of attention there in the waiting room, and the orderly lived up to his title to restore order by gently moving Luna along with; "Come now, love. The Healer will see you."

But if there was anything striking was the fact that Luna wasn't ready to go just quite yet. "_Just wait until the news gets out!_" she angrily spat while being lead away.

Dolly watcher her go with a grumpy look on her freckled face before turning to Harry. "I suppose you gotta bitch too?" she asked very rudely.

Her whole manner put Harry on edge. But there was too much on his mind, especially over what Dolly said moments before, to allow his aggravations to lead. They could wait until later, he decided.

"There's a member of Gryffindor House who suffered a grievous injury." Harry controlledly told her. "Longbottom is his name."

The effect on Dolly was surprising, because it was clear that she was expecting him to be another Luna.

"Er…Let me check." She fumbled as a result. "Have a seat…Traffic's heavy here."

The wait wasn't too long. In the meantime, Ginny was finally taken to the Healers and shortly afterward Dolly returned with less than pleasant news. But before the latter occurred, Harry went thought the humiliation of getting both Ginny and himself killed in the exam—and especially what Dolly said about it; _The whole point of the test was to see how ready you would be in such situations._

With two major battles already under his belt, and several incidents he survived on bravery, Harry considered himself 'ready' or at least confident enough to handle himself in battle…Which sorely left him wondering how he could have failed so miserably so close to his goal. He was starting to really piece together everything that happened, when noticing Dolly standing next to him startled him out of it.

"Your friend's going to be at Mungo's for a while. At least a week, maybe two." Dolly reported with a slight cringe. "That was some blow to the head he took. Lucky his neck wasn't broken."

Something inside Harry just snapped after hearing that. The anger just suddenly was there in massive quantities just aching to burst forth. Excuse or no excuse, the whole exam had simply gone too far in the depiction of realism. Students were getting injured and nearly killed out there, and for what?

He stood up suddenly ready to unleash all that rage right into her face…Only to have it choked off by a very sharp look from Dolly and quickly.

"Can I tell you something first?" she directly asked

Harry opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Whatever propelled him to that moment was simply gone.

"Good, now there is something all of you need to know about this and any future exams that will be coming your way." She merrily began. "The initial program, _the_ _simulation itself_, can be altered while it is running though the adding of elements—which is solely at the discretion of whom ever is running the Danger Room at the time…You following me?"

Harry simply blinked. There was a realization forming in his mind, but it was too difficult to grasp at the moment.

"Ok." Dolly went on. "For this exam, and others that are coming along, these random elements will be added by the Instructors who are currently teaching you how to duck and cover while shooting—"

"_The Instructors?_" Harry suddenly said with a very incredulous look on his face, while visions of those he saw in the Observation Room came sharply to mind.

"Yea, they very people who've been spending all that time cramming loads of stuff into your brains involving survival in such nasty situations as that last exam—which nearly all of you failed to use." Dolly, now smiling, continued. "They were the ones who set up all those nasty surprises in there, the very ones which practically all of you failed to get past on your first try_._

"So, any bitch that you have about getting hurt or killed before you really had a chance in there to do your stuff is simply going to fall on the ground and lay there—alright? The people you'd want to confront are the very people who are right now very disappointed in all of you for failing so miserably—though I figure some leeway will be given to those who got seriously hurt…"

"But the rest of you," She fiercely continued, "better be prepared for a good old fashioned hide tanning from those instructors…I don't suppose you already been dug into about it?"

It was about then; Harry finally grasped what it was hanging just out of reach in his mind; the realization of what it was all about. Just because it was all created, didn't mean that it should have been easy. On the contrary, it was made deliberately difficult to actually _be_ like reality. He recalled watching a television show about how soldiers were put through intensive training meant to reflect exactly what they'd be facing on the battlefield. None of it was pleasant for those trying to be soldiers, but it had to be that way to prepare them for the reality of war as much as possible…

Now Harry realized why McGonagall was so disappointed in all of them, especially him. And soon, he would be hearing it from the Instructors themselves.

The anger was gone, crushed, pulverized, and destroyed. He felt sick, he felt useless for taking so much of it for granted.

"Yea, you have." Dolly gently said. "So learn from it. Things are simply too desperate to keep messing up. And none of you here, right now, are going to allowed to keep messing up for very much longer…"

And she leaned in close, glaring right into Harry's face. "Especially you, harry Potter…Especially you."

10


	55. Chapter 55

Chapter Fifty-five

Special Matters.

Dolly was especially correct on that.

The following day, exactly to the hour it started, the Exam ended. All those successful in evading the numerous opponents were allowed to leave it and brought to the Great Hall, where Instructors finally had their say with all those who failed.

They were angry in varying degrees since they expected better from the students, much better. Some loudly berating and belittling students for their gross carelessness, while others openly considered everything up to that point to have been a complete waste of time due to the students 'unwillingness' to apply what they were so painstakingly taught. But amid the rants there were praises for creativity some exhibited, thought they only managed to last four or five hours (though it was added that they too should have done better), finally ending with glorious praise for those who managed to make it all the way. And generously rewarding their respective Houses several hundred points apiece, after subtracting points for those who failed.

Even with such honors, some, especially The Patil Sisters, were very much aware of the feelings of their fellow House-mates on the matter. Neither of them spoke very much about their exam experiences. Parvati herself spoke in low tones to those who asked, making sure not to raise the anger of those by inadvertently making them remember their own failures—unlike the Creevey's, who simply wouldn't stop talking about it. This was more Dennis' fault than Colin's, who was more mindful than his younger brother by not going on about how Nott did _this_ and _that_ during the exam. There were several who wouldn't have minded catching Dennis alone somewhere private, or at least by an open window or stairs on one of the higher floors, just to either shut him up or to witness his 'unfortunate accident', but Harry and those closest to him were alarmed and intrigued by what Dennis was saying about Nott's level of resourcefulness.

"He was just…incredible" the younger Creevey would gush. "The way he used that Taxi to run down the Death Eaters who'd cornered us, and how he handled that Shotgun…Boy, did he give _that_ Death Eater a surprise…"

There were also tales of knowing how to handle a computer, read a road map, even various kitchen appliances, all done by Nott, who managed to keep those with him out of harms way and nearly reached the Scottish boarder when the Exam ended.

It left Harry very disturbed, not because of Ginny being originally right in her assumption to head north—but because of Nott associations.

That prompted him, Ron and Ginny to get Parvati's version of events. And they did, after catching up to her on the stairs leading to the Girl's dorms.

"Well, since Dennis did such a wonderful job of telling it, I don't see why you have to come bother me about it." Parvati frowned irritatedly at Harry. "What he's been saying is the truth, and my sister will say the same."

"Nott drove a Taxi?' Harry asked largely on reflex.

"Yes." Parvati tensely replied.

"And used a Gun?" Ginny added, to which Parvati unleashed an irritated storm of words just short of out rightly yelling, "_And a Muggle Can Opener, Stove, Petrol Pump and many other things that don't come to mind!_"

"But his Father's a Death Eater." Ron quickly pointed out.

Parvati's face flashed a violent color as she nearly unleashed an equally violent torrent of words towards Ron, just catching herself before doing so. "Yes…_I know!_" she growled. "That's the part that scares me!"

It also disturbed Harry, making him think instead of sleep that night.

The odd visit in the Great Hall, how Crabbe and Goyle were dealt with during yesterday's breakfast, and finally the Exam itself—it all played havoc with his mind, making him try recalling weather or not Nott was ever apart of Malfoy's every following contingent or a part of Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad but really couldn't place him amongst either. He was a pureblood, from a family that was among the last of such type in the whole world. His Father was an ardent supporter of Voldemort, and ever stayed in the good graces of the tyrant—as Harry vividly recalled at the Graveyard rebirth. And as their families were, so were the children followers of Voldemort emulating them in every detail…

Except Theodore Nott…

Harry worried on it through the night, staying awake until the first light of dawn creped into the room. And when Nick came to wake them all, Harry was anything but prepared for that day.

_The Hog's Head Inn is a quaint little tavern far off of the main street of Hogsmead, in the sort of area nobody would find themselves walking in without the means of defending themselves with several varying forms of martial arts. Cute place, really, especially with the severed pigs head over the front door. It lent an unusual touch to the place._

_It was surprising not to be bothered by panhandlers or see bums sleeping in the various doorways and alleys. I don't know if any such unfortunate did exist here in Hogsmead. When the troubles began, Aurors swept the entire town clean of the 'rabble' instead of trying to straighten them out enough to be usable…_

_Ah well, that's how it goes._

_With in, it was now home to a company of Aurors from Manchester and 'District Headquarters' for the group assigned to deal with any attacks in the area. It was also serving as a rest stop for any walking patrol in the area, as well as the occasional traveler—if you can stand the smell of goats, that is. The aged proprietor, as I've been told, has a serious fondness for them. And the smell, despite the recent efforts to clean the place, still lingers…_

_Well, the drinks are good and the beds are warm. There are worse places to be._

_I've done my share of waiting in dark alleys. It's an art-form relying on patience, patience, patience, and a goodly amount of luck not to be noticed. Arthur Weasley, who's with me, is settled on the other side of the alley in the dark mere feet in front of me, silently waiting as I am…_

_For some time now, since the spectacular arrival of the Hogwarts Express in town, it has been suspected that a certain person with the talent to alter their appearance, one very near and dear to Professor Remus Lupin, has been rooming in Hogsmead. Where hasn't really been pinpointed, and delayed due to the more serious concern of organizing the defense of the area. When that was finally done, it was noticed that there were some discrepancies between the roster lists and who was standing in muster every day. The investigations were done discreetly, so not to spook any preps' into leaving soon. Especially the person in question._

_With the unknowing aid of Professor Lupin, we're about to find out if the person in question is there in their room. _

_Lupin, as I've been told on several occasions, is a werewolf who can be trusted—and has lived a hardscrabble life due to the affliction. Having met the man on several occasions here, I can vouch on that portion of his tragic but pleasant character. Who was missing something very near and dear to isn't fun to deal with. And being bit by a werewolf in the magical community carries an ugly stigma that's impossible to remove, and next to impossible to deal with. That was possibly the reasons why Nymphadora Tonks, an Auror with the Metamorphmagus ability—the Changing Lady in question—fell in love with him out of symphony despite all the warnings he gave and what she knew of his condition. The how's and why's or romance are a difficult puzzle I avoid as much as possible._

_They, despite age, however couldn't. When Cupid's nailed them, they've become inseparable—which, as we all since figured, gave Scrimgeour the leverage he needed for his schemes. So now, the roles were reversed; she was feeling the outcast while he was being the one who proved otherwise. _

_Definitely an entangled mess. One Professor McGonagall carefully explained to me, as Weasley looked on, in her office two hours ago. A discreet capture, Lupin was probably overly protective at this point and would surely loose control if Tonks were threatened or harmed in some brutal manner. That was what she wanted us for; to make sure the Aurors with us didn't get carried away during the confrontation, and to bring them back. It came with one stipulation however…_

_"Your Browning, Mr. Day." She calmly asked, extending a hand outward for it._

_I was initially hesitant. My pistol is always loaded with Stun. Even at point-blank range they're non-fatal, though I could for once rely on my fall-backs that could contain him easily with nothing worse than a bruised ego. McGonagall though was insistent; she didn't want matters really spiraling out of control—which could possibly occur if a weapon on any kind were produced. And by showing that we were unarmed, there was the chance that Lupin wouldn't let passion get to him so quickly. That's what I hoped as I eventually handed the Hi-Power over. I really don't like hospitals._

_So there we were, squatting in an alleyway across from the Hog's Head Inn, waiting for the 'opening door a crack' signal that would tell us Lupin was onsite and inside. In heavy clothing because of the late autumn cold, I missed having a cigarette to smoke. But then, its glow would have given me away…_

_"The Door." Arthur hurriedly whispered, drawing my attention to the thin crack of light that appeared along its right side._

_The signal. It appeared for a moment before the door itself closed. There was doubt, since it was quite possible that someone had entered the establishment and Weasley had misread the situation. _

_"No, I've been sitting there watching it." He briskly told me while moving past._

_Well, that's good enough. Soon, we were being assaulted by the strong odor of Goat that apparently was magnified by the warmth with in. There are some things Magic just can't get rid of. Besides the barkeep who ignored us, there were four Aurors there knowing what was expected of them. One of them was a senior man, judging by his appearance. Another, an Animagus, was a well groomed dark skinned Punjabi wearing a turban whose color scheme identified him as either a lesser prince or baron. This one came down the stairs and reported directly to the senior in slightly accented English, "Room Four."_

_His superior nodded, before sending the other two up the stairs then leading us up there. One of the two advanced people took up position at the top of the stairs, the other we could just see down at the far end of the corridor where it turned to the right. Between him and us were six doors, three to each side and perfectly facing each other. The fourth room could easily be to the left right in the middle of the corridor, if I recall my schemes right. Rooms were never numbered in following order due to an old superstition to confuse evil spirits, a tactic that follows down to modern times with the address on a street; odd numbers to one side, even on the other. _

_Number Four was in the middle of the corridor on the left. Its door was a dark oak of rustic design, complete with a brass knocker in sore need of polish. _

_"When you're ready." Weasley whispered into my ear._

_He's a family man, that's why I have the job of opening the door. Once the senior and the Prince move into position on either side of the door and out of sight, I gently grasp the latch and slowly push downwards. No polite knocking, no gentleman's courtesy, just a sudden shove against the door and rush into the room with Weasley right behind me. No bolt latch on the door, surprising for a place like this. But everything else, the stoneware washing bowl on the dark wood table and the large dark wood trunk off against the left wall and the simple wood-frame bed under the sole window is just about right._

_As is Lupin and the Woman seated on the bed._

_At least they were clothed. Nothing worse that to barge in on intimacy when it's not warranted, people tend to become vicious when that happens. But just the same, they went for their wands…_

_"Wait!" Weasley yelled, with hands open and palms outward showing he wasn't armed. I did the same, and hoped that the two we left outside in the hall wouldn't come blasting in. Things were tense enough._

_But seeing that we were both unarmed, honor and common sense, probably what McGonagall was figuring on, stepped in._

_"Well, Arthur…Mr. Day…I suppose you should be congratulated for capturing us." Lupin frowned while lowering his wand. Tonks, her purple hair a mess, remained seated on the bed staring fearfully at us like a cornered animal._

_"Neither of you are…under arrest for anything." Weasley calmly replied._

_That raised a note of suspicion with Lupin, who then glanced at me._

_"No gun, Mr. Day?" he asked._

_"McGonagall has it." I replied. _

_An arching of his right eyebrow was the only telling that he found things interesting. _

_"She sent us, Remus." Weasley continued. "She'd like to speak with both of you."_

_Lupin's stance relaxed a little, but he wasn't really trusting of us just yet. It's a lot like catching fish; you just can't pull them into the boat with out tiring them out first, otherwise you line will break and you'll need to start all over again. Only here, there wasn't much of a second chance occurring if they panic--especially with how wired they were. That's why I let Weasley do the talking; they knew him better than me. They'd also trust him much better than me. _

_"Harry's worried too." Weasley added. "He's very concerned…"_

_That hit something with both of them, making them shamed faced and worried at the same time. Harry's refusal to help Scrimgeour no doubt made him desperate, and the depths he went to were inexcusable. Yes, Harry was angry, but not at Tonks who impersonated him. It was at Scrimgeour, who clearly used her to achieve what he wanted. _

_Now it was time to close that chapter and move on._

_Lupin realized it. The defiant stance was melting, becoming more relaxed and relieved with each passing moment. Tonks too was becoming less fearful, and gently stroked the hand of her husband…_

_He looked down to her, gently smiling. "Yes…Harry does deserve an explanation."_

10


	56. Chapter 56

Chapter Fifty-six.

The Surprising Fact.

_I received word about the results of the first exam in a very unpleasant way; by walking into the 'Teacher's Lounge' (as I call it) for a quick bite after leaving the Lupin's with McGonagall. There was an assortment of forty wizards and witches seated at the single long table that dominated the room with several more had pulled up the armchairs to be apart of the discussion. When I arrived, Sky was bitterly griping right in the middle of it all; "Those fools couldn't find their way around a mulberry bush, even if their lives depended on it!"_

_That pretty much told me how the Exam went._

_"Only five made it through, Sir." A doughty witch responded._

_I made it just to the food tray when the response to that was issued, rather loudly; "It should have been more…Half at least!"_

_"Well considering what was thrown at them, a quarter of them surviving would have been amazing!" Sky thundered back, setting off and grand old fashioned verbal row I hoped to use to slink away with a plateful before being noticed—or even asked to give an opinion. Personally, I'd rather be far away from this rowdy bunch to avoid being dragged into their 'discussion'. But only make it as far as a full plate and goblet before hearing a very commanding tone; "You're Day, correct?"_

_I did a very slow turn. Not only was I on the spot, the 'Voice' also brought to an end the current 'discussion'. When I faced the group in toto, they were all facing me with various looks. But the one who called stood out from all of them, a very tall thin faced man with a pronounced beak-nose who was giving me a very direct stare._

_"Er…Yes?"_

_"Aren't you the one who's to be teaching Serendipitous Entry and Entrapment Avoidance?" he directly asked._

_"Breaking and Entering, while avoiding whatever alarms, traps and what other nasty surprises that may wait and dealing with them by means magical and not—yes, I am to teach that yes."_

_Beak-nose drew himself up in a very nasty sort of way, like Sky would just before he'd start yelling._

_"Well, and what a pleasant surprise to finally meet you at last sir! What have you been doing during this part of the semester? Avoiding us?"_

_I could simply inform him that I was performing special work for Professor McGonagall. And yes, I could see why he was irate—either there was probably somebody else teaching that class, or since I wasn't around it was probably considered something of a joke. The impression I was getting though involved something of a lecture and personal opinion concerning those who 'skirt' their duties in times of great need. _

_And Beak-nose looked right and ready to do just that when Sky, god bless him, stepped right in._

_"He's been busy with special duties, placed upon him by both the Headmistress of Hogwarts and the currently re-formed Ministry of Magic. Duties that are by definition classified by the aforementioned, due to their critical relation to the present situation."_

_Sounded silly, I know. Sky was never one to schmooze, especially with bureaucracy. But his open dare to Beak-nose to go see for himself if he had doubts was beautiful to see. He was embarrassed clearly by the fact that he saw me as something to be scorned. And that happening before a group of his peers was definitely unsettling to him in deed._

_Unfortunately, he didn't take the cue to simply sit down and remain that way…_

_"So," he had to ask me, "how are you going to structure your lessons to align with the current situation that faces us?"_

_When the others, including Sky, turned to listen to my explanations I knew I was cooked right there and then…_

_At least I knew what I was talking about, going into length about the strength and weaknesses of the many designs of door locks used down through the ages all the way to the numerous 'fool-proof' electronic designs favored nowadays. _

_Unfortunately, I was stuck there for hours._

The scroll Harry hurried written out, when reminded of it during breakfast, while fighting off the lack of sleep, had cost him the last of his quill tips which several more sentences to go. But Dean's skill with a pocket knife enabled Harry to get his self-examination scroll of his Exam failure finished just by the end of the allotted time. After that, it was his plan to simply try sleeping through the assembly where those very scrolls were read aloud by the more irate teachers was dashed, since the instructors would often call out to the students after reading their scroll aloud for so additional public humiliation over their carelessness. Fitch was off in the corner, loving every moment of it. So much so, that if he died right there and then there wouldn't be any ghost of him to further berate the students in his often cruel way.

Though he was thankful to Hermione for waking him by jabbing his ribs with her wand when it came his turn to stand, Harry wouldn't have minded missing Professor McGonagall's following lecture for a few minutes of sleep.

"This first real test of your learned abilities has been, without doubt, and absolute failure." She proclaimed from her center place at the great table, while her hawkish eyes swept over the students without hesitation or pity. "I do not need to remind any of you of the seriousness we all face in these hours. But, I will tell you this; from this moment onward, you will be pushed to succeed. The mistakes of this first Exam will not be forgotten, and hopefully never repeated by any of you again!"

She drew her gaze back to the center, holding it their sternly before continuing in a very straight-forwardly manner, "I do not want to be harsh towards any of you…None of us do. But we all know the enemy, and we all know what he'll do. I want that kept in your minds as these exams continue…And good luck to you all."

Nobody said a word, and not a sound was herd for moments afterward until tiny Professor Fenwick climbed up onto the table to dismiss the assembly with his magically amplified voice.

They were then allowed the rest of that day to them selves, a moment of relaxation before the grind once again started with real earnest—which the students looked forward to with incredible dread. Harry though was the exception; all he wanted was to get back into bed and just sleep. Walking the distance from the Great Hall to his dorm was a herculean effort, and the exertion's reward was only a few steps away when Dennis Creevey rushed up the stairs to him while chiming, "Guess what? Nott's going to be staying with us in Gryffindor!"

Harry knew that under any normal circumstances, such as having more energy than he currently did, he would have turned on the shorter student not only demanding an explanation. Or, considering who desperate he was to retire, loose his temper sending Creevey bouncing down the stairs. But he hadn't the energy to do either. Everything with in him was shutting down, his brain, his legs. He slumped against the wall inside of the dorm room door. Only a few steps more and he would have made it.

"I don't feel too well, Dennis." He managed to drawl, "Perhaps later."

"Is something wrong, Harry?"

There was a pause, between the need to reach those doors and the bed that lay beyond them and wondering weather or not he could raise enough anger charged strength to strangle Creevey for his persistence.

"I'm…tired." Harry carefully said. "I…want to…must sleep."

As he said it, there was a blur coming up from behind Creevey. But Harry couldn't focus on it to tell what it was.

"_But this is serious!_" Dennis squeaked. "And practically unheard of in all of Hogwarts!"

The blur came closer, taking the familiar shape of Ron who grimly clamped a hand on Dennis' shoulder.

"They're already talkin' about it downstairs, Creevey. Why not go join them, and let Harry have his rest?" Ron gruffly stated.

He was by no means a bully. But Harry was struck by the fact at that moment his friend could easily become one, especially in how he towered over Dennis right there.

"But!" Creevey managed to squeak.

"_Go!_" Ron commanded with a rougher voice than before. "Harry's ill…Leave him alone.

Harry couldn't tell if Creevey moved on his own, or if Ron helped him move away. At least he wasn't thrown down the stairs, as best as he could tell with everything so out of focus before him. Even looking at his best friend, only inches away from him, was an effort.

"Ron…"

"Hermione noticed you were peaked out." Ron explained. "Hell, mate, you've been dragging all day."

"Nott…" Harry managed to get out. Ron drew silent for a few moments, looking past his shoulder down the stairs before turning back to Harry. "Ya, it's queer. The whole thing is simply bloody queer. But he did it."

Then he took Harry by the arm, helping up those last stairs to the dorm room—and then the bed. "But look, no need to keep yourself up about it. Dean, Seamus, and the rest of us are keeping an eye on the bugger. He does anything wrong, we'll make him regret it. Now come on, we'll nip you off to bed."

7


	57. Chapter 57

Chapter Fifty-seven.

Opportunities, Incidents and Tonks.

The new training regiment began soon afterward…

Starting that Sunday, at five in the early morning, with Nick waking and rushing them down to the Great Hall much sooner than usual.

"Orders." Was all the Knightly ghost would tell them, even when pressed. And once within the Great Hall with all the other Houses, they were greeted by not just one great board but one large black board but several smaller book-sized black boards that floated up and down and back again along the entire length of the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables at a seated persons eye-level with bright, sparkling yellow letters;

**Henceforth, All Advanced Class Training SHALL BEGIN AT Five Early, and Continue all the way till Ten LATE UNLESS CIRCUMSTANCES WARRANT.**

**As so decreed by M. McGonagall, Headmaster of Hogwarts.**

"So she finally took the title." Ron crudely commented as the sign slowly drifted over the plate of eggs and sausage.

"As if that's news." Nott added, while cutting into his stacked pancakes on the other side of the table. "But then, she was never formally granted the title by the Governor's Board when it should have been given."

Ron wasn't in the best of moods; either it was the lack of sleep or perhaps the presence of the sole Slytherin in the Advanced Class sitting right across from him at breakfast. He started at the new arrival in such a way that indicated a fight was soon to erupt, only to fail as some measure of self-control took him over directing him to his own food much to the relief of several seated around them.

From that, all in the Advanced Class became immersed in highly intensive classroom work, where the practical matters of defense and offense were taught before being practiced in the endless domain of the Danger Room. The Instructors kept at them until they were well past exhaustion, performing the same spell enchantments over and over and over again. This went on for the better part of a month, dealing with everything from simple counter-spells and assorted 'minor' jinxes to full blown attack and counter-spells against everything imaginable, and some unimaginable but thought up on the spot by more creative instructors with help from the Danger Room's dynamics, shifting back and forth in degree without warning.

During these grueling sessions, healers were always present watching over events from the Observation Room. Given the intensive and exacting nature of the training, something was always bound to go 'out of control' during the sessions leaving the strong possibility of somebody being hurt—or worse. This became evident especially when they were drilled on the more powerful spells, making it a routine occurrence for the Healers to suddenly appear from the Observation Room to tend to the injured. Neville Longbottom, recently returned from St. Mungo's with his head still bandaged and slightly tipsy, was put into the accelerated training regiment much too many of their concerns.

"Wot 'r you lot cryin' about?" Scolded on lean-faced instructor, whom they reported Neville's problems to. "Win I was fightin' twinny years a-go, we 'ad it worst! So tell 'em to either buck-up, or git out!"

But Neville wouldn't. He'd loudly argue, even at Doc's insistence to McGonagall, which would have placed him back with the regular students until fully healed.

"I'm not going to let my mates down!" he loudly yelled at Doc during one evenings meeting the Common Room. "_I won't! I refuse!_"

"Even if you drop dead in there?" Doc concernedly countered. "Your injuries aren't healed enough to let you continue at the pace the Instructors are setting in there. There's no point in allowing you to put yourself in such great risk"

But Neville wouldn't relent, and the attempts to remove him from the group went no where since the Gryffindor's protected Neville as a group, when they could, in the Danger Room, and McGonagall wasn't about to demote him back to the regular student body. Aggravated, Doc wasn't going to let it go, and after that kept close watch on the Danger Room's training from either the Observation Deck or within the Room itself.

"I may not prevent Neville from injuring himself further." He said, when asked by Dean before the start of another training session. "But if it gets too wild in here for him, _I will_ put a stop to it."

This, he said loud enough with in earshot of several instructors, several Gryffindor students, and Neville himself. The Instructors stopped soon after Doc made the statement, looking at him as if he were some sort of rude intruder blundering through what was clearly their domain. But he didn't back down, and kept his word when one Instructor became so exasperated with Hermione's stutter while performing complex attack and defense spells that he nearly struck her across the face in anger. An enraged Ron almost stepped in, but Doc beat him to it by unlimbering his magnum automatic and calling forth his _Angel of Wraith _when that Instructor turned on him. Harry, and those who witnessed the stand-off couldn't really decide on what made that Instructor back off; the Desert Eagle that Doc held cocked and ready to fire or the armored Angel specter that floated above him with it's mighty broadsword brandished for ready use.

"I'll give you three choices." Doc then spoke to the startled Instructor in a harsh whisper. There was no doubt what two of the 'three choices' were during that tense stand-off, but the third one was easily figured after the Instructor quickly left the Danger Room.

But for Harry, the situation enabled him to get close to Nott.

From that first day he moved into Gryffindor, Nott found himself the center of all sorts of attention especially concerning his exploits during "The Exam". His manner was simple and direct, using not so many words or lavishing himself with embellishment as it was figured a Slytherin would while describing all he did and how he did it. Clearly a departure from Malfoy or any other Slytherin Harry knew.

"While Father was away in Azkaban," he mater-of-factly explained, "I was sent to live with my Mother's relatives, and a few of them are simply batty about muggle things."

The 'things' turned out to be more than any of them imagined, because it turned out that portion of Nott's family presently owned numerous television sets, alarm clocks (both electric and wind-up), blenders, mixers, radios, computers, firearms of all types, two vintage biplanes and numerous cars—one of which Nott spoke at length about.

"I gotta cousin who's just nuts about automobiles. All sorts of them kept in a barn, some almost as old as my Father…Especially that Morgan cyclecar he taught me how to drive. Flimsy thing whose drive chain made a horrible racket and a windscreen so low you needed to wear goggles to see where you were going—otherwise you had to squint and blink a lot."

That was quite startling to learn; a pure blood family with an affinity for Muggle things.

"Well, would you fancy that?" Ron surprised exclaimed afterward. "The Dark One's supporters playin' with such things."

"Probably because we never asked him, Ron." George irritatedly said while trying to sleep on the Common Room couch.

"H-How c-could we?' Hermione stammered out. "He was…S-s-Slytherin. It was-sn't like we c-could s-s-speak free-ly with him about s-s-something we didn't k-know about."

Which in Harry's mind was exactly the point; how could they have known.

He also had to wonder about Nott's father as well…Did he know about his Wife's family's unusual habits when he married her.

"Perhaps," Harry said after considering it, "_they_ weren't supports of the Dark Lord."

The only one not giving him a surprised look was George, who was the only one that made any sort of noise—by snoring as he slept on the couch.

"Not supporters?" Ginny squeaked startled at him. "But that…"

And promptly lost the logical support to her argument when Dean put in, "Not all pureblood families went in with…_Him_. There were families torn apart during those dark times. Parents fighting their children, siblings fighting each other."

"I just wonder how long old Nott stood it." Ron grinned wickedly.

But Hermione made them all pause; "D-Divorce isn't c-common in the Wi-zard-ing World…So wha-what h-happened to her?"

It was a spontaneous ideal, one that needed to be well thought out before even being uttered aloud as Harry considered. There had to be more to it than him taking advantage of the situation, all of them had to try in one form or another to get close to Nott.

But how to go about it always left him baffled. Would the more direct approach of simply asking work, or perhaps a more round about method of engaging him in simple conversation the slowly steering towards things Slytherin? The Creevey's constant praise of him helped smooth the way some of the time, but even Nott was beginning to become irritated at having to constantly talk about his Exam exploits that even made Harry back off on his intended plans. So Harry decided to wait, and concentrated on his spell-abilities—until one day he was called to Headmistress' Office.

"The Headmistress didn't give a reason." The Auror instructed to get him officiously replied to Harry's question. "She wants you, and wants you now."

Which to Harry meant there wasn't going to be any cheerful business being discussed. So as the Auror lead the way, Harry ran over everything in his head since the Exam that he could get yelled at for not performing up to standard…

But the time he reached the door to McGonagall's office, he abandoned that line when not finding anything to be yelled at. _This_, he concluded, _was something more…_

And it greeted him the moment he stepped into the office.

"Hello…Harry." Tonks meekly said to him.

It nearly caused him to misstep and fall to the floor.

She was still slender, a little more than usual in her velvet robes. Her hair still short and bubble-gum pink, but now her face showing the same nervousness towards the unknown that appeared in her mousey eyes as she stood next to an apologetic Lupin to the right of McGonagall's desk.

Harry had to blink a few extra times from the shock, and managed to reach one of the chairs before the desk to sit.

"My apologies, Harry." McGonagall gently spoke. "You should have been better prepared for this moment."

Harry wanted to speak, at least say something. The shock made any such effort a challenge because it rendered him mute.

"But you are owed an explanation, Harry." Lupin gently put in. "That's if you haven't figured out what happened…"

"Scrimgeour…" Harry managed at last to croak out. Lupin rewarded him with a slight nod.

"I've told you before," Tonks quietly added in a weak voice, "Metamorphmagus' are…very rare."

"And as her Husband, Scrimgeour had the perfect means of impersonating you." Lupin added with unmistakable bitterness. "As long as he had me, Tonks was practically his puppet—making his plan practically perfect."

By then, Harry had regained much more of his facilities to clearly think. But still didn't speak. There were portions of Scrimgeour's plan that he really didn't quite grasp yet, especially how Tonks was used. All he had was suspicion and possibility. Nothing to truly state as fact, but kept as good reason to remain hidden until the deception was fully exposed as it finally was. Seeing them standing there made Harry realize that his escape also made them suffer under Scrimgeour's plans…

He just couldn't bring himself to speak the words.

"There will be no malice held against her on this matter." McGonagall gently told them. "The situation was perilous, and there was little she or anyone else could do at that moment."

"We…Understand." Lupin replied, smiling while holding Tonks a little closer to his side.

That's when a fact occurred to Harry.

"I figured it _was_ you impersonating me." Harry spoke up. "But how could have Scrimgeour have known that you two were already married, or in love? That, I can't quite figure out."

Lupin fidgeted a little, but Tonks started speaking before he could. "You know because of Umbridge's laws, Remus was known to them as a Werewolf...When the Ministry came to Bill and Fleur's wedding, it was Umbridge herself who had Remus arrested because she declared him a danger to us all. And as they were taking him away, I…broke down in hysterics…Scrimgeour herd everything."

The heavy silence that followed made most of them nervous. But in its midst, Harry found a sense of reflection making everything from that time as a prisoner make sense. It also gave him a glimpse into how ugly and evil Scrimgeour's plan really was, making Harry even less sympatric towards the institution he represented.

Of all the vilest plans ever, it rivaled anything Voldemort' did by its magnitude.

"Harry…I'm, I'm sorry." Tonks began, appearing ready to cry. "But, I...really—"

Harry stopped her by raising his hand.

"It's alright." He gently said to her. "It's alright."

There was more in his mind that did want to come out. But Harry kept it all within, and wisely to himself.

9


	58. Chapter 58

Chapter Fifty-eight.

On Pins and Needles.

Hermione was astonishingly incredible during the practice.

This time, it involved dealing with multiple attacking enemies, either from creatures or Death Eaters, charging the defender in mass.

The one teaching this particular skill, a large, heavy-set, but towering man with a round reddish face named Headdy, now perpetually in a scowl from the start to finish of the class which involved adding the prefix _multis _before uttering the desired spell, was one instructor who didn't tolerate anything he considered _sloppiness_ in the most verbally explosive way.

"This is important, _very important!_" He would always begin his classes. "I do not want to see any of you schlepping off on this because _I will make you regret it!_"

Unlike some of the other Instructors, Headdy went viciously out of his way with his verbal blasting of students who failed to display an active understanding of what he would often loudly tell them about spell mechanics—and worse when they failed to apply it when called upon.

Or, found a much easier and creative way of performing the task Headdy gave out.

Hermione was his favorite target in that particular manner. All of them had been, in one form or another on a daily basis, been on the receiving end of Headdy's verbal lashings, or _Hail_ as it was coming to be known by, when they failed to properly perform up to his standard. Due largely to her stammer still hampering her speech, Hermione created short cuts which were a sly combination of verbal and mental commands that surprisingly achieved the goals well before she was expected to. But, instead of receiving praise for such inventiveness, all she'd received was a verbal blast from Headdy who'd curse her for recklessness and blatant disregard for following her lessons.

"Me-Mental commands are fa-faster f-for launching s-sp-spells, in su-such heck-tic s-si-situations." She boldly countered after the spectacular disarming of several Mountain Trolls in record time.

"That is not what I'm teaching you!" Headdy roared right back. "You think your little stunt was perfect to deal with such dangers? Well, it's not! It was reckless! Very reckless! I've seen better who were killed because they did such stupid things, and had gotten others killed along with them! You yourself would be killed for not following what I've been teaching you!"

When Hermione tried countering that, Headdy cut her short with; "Don't 'But' me girl, or I'll butt you right out of this School—regardless of whom you are!"

There was more, but that was cut off by the banging of the double doors—because Doc had viciously kicked them open to enter the room. It wasn't just him alone then, Sky, Hagrid, and Headmistress McGonagall were right behind him—none of them very happy with Headdy as they marched him away. The following day marked a very considerable change in Headdy's matter towards the students, and the more open presence of Doc apparently there to insure Headdy kept himself respectable in both distance and verbiage towards his charges.

But one day, Doc was suddenly called away. There was no sound, and nobody noticed; he was there one minute and gone the next while Hermione was once again short-cutting against a far larger force of Death Eaters firing unforgivable curses against her. As Harry would remember, Headdy was his usual scowling self watching Hermione defeat wave after wave of enemies when he happened to glance over where Doc would normally stand. But his gaze lingered a little longer than the usual quick glance, and his face brightened a little with hope.

Then, as it appeared, he positioned the arms of his robes to his waist, hiding his wand from view. Hermione suddenly faltered to her surprise, and was promptly felled by the faux blasts of numerous Death Eater wands.

"_Ha!_" Headdy roared over a prone Hermione, gripping his wand in seeming triumph. "What did I tell ya, hmm? What did I say about being reckless? What did I say! _TELL ME!!_"

In a moment, Harry realized what had happened at the same time he realized Doc wasn't around. Nor was Harry alone because several from Gryffindor and Nott were rising to their feet with anger clearly evident on their faces and in their actions. They were going to denounce Headdy for deliberately striking down Hermione, a hanging offence for any instructor since it wasn't in retaliation for any physical action but clearly personal reasons. But Ron went one step farther, and to everyone's surprise and utter horror slugged the abusive instructor purposefully on the jaw knocking the man down and in oblivious pain.

It took several of them to contain the enraged Ron, but not before the Aurors arrived.

"The matter of a student striking a teacher, no matter the reason, is a very serious charge." McGonagall sternly informed Ron, who was standing before her desk. There were other, better ways of dealing with this matter than violence. And I believed that you were more than capable of resisting such an urge."

Ron continued to stand straight with hands loose at his sides, not once making any protest. Even Harry had to marvel at his friend's control, while filled with dread over what would happen to him. Assaulting an Instructor, even in the slightest way, were grounds for immediate expulsion. Headdy had practically asked for it, being belligerent in his actions—captured by the Room's Record ability and played back over and over again by Sky. Obliviously, the instructor was way out of line with what he did. Mr. Weasley was tasked with dealing with him.

That left Ron. Right or wrong, he was in serious trouble. And what would happen belong in the hands of those Harry could only guess at…

And hopefully see beyond the norm.

"Have you anything to say for yourself?" McGonagall then curtly asked.

Ron's breathing was steady, while his body tense. It was suddenly possible for him to lash out in a loud verbal tirade over how unfair it all was, Harry feared. But instead, Ron simply said; "No Professor, I do not."

The silence afterward, during which McGonagall fixed Ron with a stern look before nodding to the awaiting Aurors who briskly moved up to lead him away.

"You are to remain in the custody of your parents until further notice." McGonagall simply told him as the Aurors lead him away.

Harry tired looking into Ron's face, to give him some gesture of hope to cling to. But his friends eyes were downward, and his face grim as the Aurors swiftly lead him from the Office.

"Potter."

Harry snapped his attention to McGonagall, seated still at her desk and regarding him sadly.

"There's very little any of us can do for him at the moment." McGonagall gently spoke to him. "Please do not exasperate things any more than they already are."

"They're going to expel him, aren't they?" Harry just spoke it without a moment to regard. He was still in shock over what happened, and thinking at that moment wasn't something he was fully capable of.

"I honestly don't know, because these are not normal times." McGonagall simply answered. "Yes, if we weren't living under the dark shadow of Voldemort. However, it would be unthinkable due to the close association both he and his family has with you—that makes their lives just as endangered as yours.

"But, "she added after a pause, "he will no long be apart of the Advanced Class. And Molly can use the additional help with Fred—"

"Fred's here?" Harry suddenly squeaked out in surprise.

"Just today." McGonagall simply nodded. "They did all they could for him at St. Mungo's. Help was needed to get him situated properly, it is why Doctor Russell wasn't at his usual place in the Danger Room…But, Harry, I'd like it if you didn't try visiting with Fred just yet. At least not for a day or two."

"Er...Why, Professor?" Harry puzzled.

"There will many important people who'd want to speak with both Fred, and Ron. Visitors will simply be in the way during that time."

"Yes, Professor."

McGonagall nodded quietly, satisfied.

"Do you have any further questions?" she asked.

There were several, some more urgent than others…

But he already knew what the answer to them would be.

"No, Professor." He said in stead.

"Then you are dismissed, Mr. Potter." McGonagall simply told him.

Walking back, there were few in the corridors to bother him. But they were largely Aurors on guard patrol, various instructors talking amongst themselves, or Ministry assistants hurrying to somewhere. The latter made Harry wonder about Percy, though the thought didn't last too long. Having firmly made his place with Scrimgeour and alienating his family in the process, there was probably not much else left for him to do.

But turning that last corner to the Common Room, there was Percy with George arguing outside the portrait door. And George was being especially vicious to his older brother.

"After what you did to Mum and Dad, and Harry?" Harry herd George sarcastically laugh, "The best thing I can suggest for you to do would be to go try finding Voldemort and arrest him by your own little, impossible to stand, self!"

"_That's suicide!_" Percy balked.

"Yes!" George quickly replied with a sinister purr. "_But you'll be famous! _ It's what you always wanted to be—isn't it? All those years of study up in your room, your officious behavior, and never once making the slightest mistake before finally being able to kiss Fudge's, Umbridge's and Scrimgeour's collective asses for that added polish to your sterling career. We'd certainly hate to see all that hard work go to waste, _now do we?_"

Under normal circumstances, Percy would have been the one to reprimand. Now, with those he had pinned his career hopes on exposed as criminal frauds and inept, the once great Percy Weasley was an empty shell with nothing to show and nothing to support. George just glared at him once before turning his back to enter the Gryffindor common room. Harry himself could find little sympathy for Percy, what he'd done to his family just to secure his position in the Ministry was criminal in all sense.

But there was pity, watching Percy standing there before the portrait door as a wreck with sadness masked upon his face. If there was ever a time the realization of his actions fully hit him, now was it. Harry could guess that he tried speaking with his parents earlier, possibly to run into the same thing he'd just experienced with George…

And Percy slowly turned away, plodding down the darkened corridor to be swallowed by its shadows.

_Well, he brought it upon himself_, Harry resigned to himself as he started towards the door…

_Yes._ The reply suddenly came to mind. _But doesn't he also deserve forgiveness, before it's too late?_

Harry stopped. It was like hearing Dumbledore speaking in his ear. He looked around, but the portraits were bare and he was alone in the area. A Ghost would have a shimmering vestige of himself, he reasoned. If that was the case, he would have seen it even as it departed.

But there was none.

The Portrait door opened once again, and soon both George and Ginny were standing there facing him.

"Hey Harry, wot's up?" George asked.

Ginny was quiet, but worried as well.

"Er…I thought I herd…something." Harry managed to get out. "Really, it's nothing."

"Well, be sure about that, Harry. We've had nothing but murder all day." George plainly stated. "The thing we don't need is for you to go all batty on us now."

"George, _this is_ a haunted castle." Ginny quickly put in. "It could be Peeves making fun of him."

That, to Harry, made perfect sense. And besides, he wondered, where had that poltergeist gone to?

"Yes, well, anyway." George hurriedly stumbled through. "Fred's back. They have him in a special room all to himself."

"Oh, how is he?" Harry responded, not letting it be known that he already knew.

"Well…He's alive." George slowly added with uncharacteristic sadness. "I wish there was more that could be done for him…"

Even Ginny, in her own way, reflected the misery George felt over his brother.

"We're going to see him." George added.

"Cheer him up?" Harry asked.

George didn't say anything. A nod was his response.

Harry stood there, remembering what McGonagall requested that he not do. But seeing George and Ginny standing there, made him truly reconsider what he was told.

"Would it be a bother if I came along to say hello?" He meekly asked.

The grins were slow in coming, but steady in growth upon George and Ginny's faces.

"Naw, man, come along." George roundly said, slapping Harry on the shoulder. "Fred wouldn't know what to do with himself if ya didn't."

9


	59. Chapter 59

Chapter Fifty-nine

The Matter of Things

Fred was happy that Harry came along to visit him. Very happy in deed.

He smiled, asking how things were going in his usual bright-eyed and pleasant manner. For Fred could do little else, beyond twitching his hands and feet as he lay propped up in a sitting position bed, wearing white pajamas and a heavy neck brace that made the turning of his head, as if he could, nearly impossible. He could also breathe on his own, which even he stated was 'very fortunate' given his present condition.

"Damn slight inconveniencing, aint it?" he remarked.

"Now Fred dear, do not fret." Mrs. Weasley said to him as she fussed repeatedly with the pillows used to prop him up along with the support platform that was nothing more than a simple board with straps hinged to move a person up and down as needed. "You'll be back on your feet in no time."

To see her constantly correcting the placement and thickness of the pillows would have been considered comedic had it not been for the situation. And everybody, including Harry, was trying to maintain good spirits in spite of the fact. Even Fred, as helpless as he was, still maintained his wit. Though now, even his Mother's constant attention was starting to wear on him.

"Yes Mum, the Pillows are perfectly fine as they are. No need to keep fussing with em'." Fred tried his best to smile at her. But his mother was just too far back to actually see him smile.

"But I'm not really sure you're comfortable, dear." Mrs. Weasley responded.

"I am. I am!" Fred wholly declared. "Trust me."

Mrs. Weasley took a startled step back, seemingly surprised.

"Oh, alright." She pouted. "But if you ever feel even the slightest bit out of sorts—"

"I'll wail my head off like I did as a child, Mum. Honest." Fred grinned back.

Mrs. Weasley appeared apprehensively towards that, which told Harry just how well she knew how tricky Fred was.

"Aw Mum," George now started in. "Fred will be fine with us."

"You really needn't worry." Ginny now piped in. "If something really bad occurs, you'll be in the next room, right?"

All Harry did was smile and nod in a reassuring manner, especially as George added; "As family, we all take care of Fred, Mum. Now don't you fuss now about it, alright?"

Mrs. Weasley appeared to nearly cry at that, not from being told off by those she loved but from the sudden pride she felt in her family along with the relief from the worry she had been carrying around until then.

"I'll be…in the other room." she smiled to them before leaving with a dignified air.

"Thanks." Fred told them after the door had closed. "She was close to driving me batty with all that constant tucking and pulling…As if I could ever be comfortable like this."

"You mean you can actually feel your lower extremities?" George quipped.

Fred shot his brother a slightly nasty look. "Somewhat. What I really, really want is to get up and move around. Even if it's only to that chair there in the corner. I've certainly had enough of lying around."

As McGonagall stated, all that could be done was done for Fred at St. Mungo's.

Harry knew, from reading what ever he could while with the Dursley's, injuries like the ones Fred suffered, had rendered people either particularly or completely paralyzed for life. Fred owed much to magic, and at St. Mungo's everything was employed to get him in the shape he now was in.

"But it could have been worse." Fred gravely told them all. "Much worse."

Once the discussion about his condition came to an end, it moved on to…

"_Icky Ronnie up and smacked a Teacher!_" Fred was so surprised, he body actually jerked spontaneously. As they went into detail, Fred hung onto every single word.

"I figured he had sweets for Hermione. But this—_really!_"

"And now he faces exposition." Ginny sadly added. "All because—"

"McGonagall's not going to do that." Harry quickly interrupted. "Yes, he's out of the Advanced Class. But he's not going to be shown the door because of Voldemort."

All the Weasley's bristled at the mention of the name, but not like before. Still, their glances made Harry sheepishly apologize.

"Well." Fred sniffed. "I can thank the Dark Lord for that pleasant bit of news. But what about Bill and Charlie? And word from them?" He added with concern.

"Bill's with Fleur and her family in France." George quietly began. "They got exiled along with Hagrid, but were held back to 'help' with the defense of the country.

"About Charlie, we still don't know anything. All lines of communications are down and restricted in Europe, and nobody's saying anything out loud."

In the gloomy silence that only a Dementor could love, Harry wondered how George became so knowledgeable. But the mental delving into that was interrupted by Mrs. Weasley when she poked her head into the room.

"I'm sorry, but there are people out here waiting to speak with Fred." She apologetically told them.

The walk back to Gryffindor was a long quiet journey down quiet halls and corridors, until Harry broke the silence just outside the Common Room's door. It wasn't at all spontaneous; this ideal had been building up for hours since seeing George giving Percy a rude brush-off. It was a simple ideal, and yes Percy did deserve what he'd been gotten for siding with the Ministry against his own family. But it wasn't fair at all to keep the hatred going, especially now when solidarity was so badly needed.

"What about getting Percy to help with Fred as well?" he suddenly asked.

Both George and Ginny were shocked by the sudden proposal, and George took it one step further by declaring, "You have gone batty!"

"No." Harry started defending his ideal, "it was just an idealo—"

"Well, mate, just you keep those kinds of ideals to yourself from now on." George harshly told him. "Percy…is nobody. Don't even try mentioning that name around any member of my family, or me, _again_!"

Then he angrily strode off the rest of the way to the portrait door, stopping only to allow it to open where he scoffed, "_Help? In deed!_" before striding through.

Harry could only stand there looking, and feeling sick.

"George will calm down." Ginny gently told him. "But please, don't mention Percy's name around any of my family…Especially now, alright?"

"Ginny." Harry stammered out his explanation, "It wasn't—"

"Please, Harry. I love you too much."

Harry wanted to explain that by keeping Percy away actually helped to create the divisions Voldemort so easily could exploit. He wanted to explain that it wasn't in their best interest to keep hating Percy, but to allow him to formally apologize to them all and so forgive him.

But what Ginny told him floored him.

"Ginny…"

"Not now, Harry." Ginny pleaded without a moment's pause. "It's getting late, and Hermione's going to need our help now because Ron won't be around. So let's get going, please?"

5


	60. Chapter 60

Chapter Sixty.

The Ties that Won't Let Go.

But the matter of Percy still bothered Harry. George was distant and cool towards Harry for some time because of his suggestion, but eventually started warming up again apparently at Ginny's insistence. The matter, however, as Ginny so reminded Harry, wasn't one he should ever bring up…At least not now.

"If Percy wants to come back," she directly told him, "_he_ has to make the amends for all he did…But not now, the wounds haven't healed enough to allow that to happen just yet."

It made for awkward moments, especially during the intensive practices in the Danger Room where they were going to face another Exam like the first—but with "More Things to worry about." Sky informed them. Harry just couldn't get what he'd seen occur between George and Percy out of his mind, leading to numerous near-misses due to his inattentiveness during simple practice runs.

"I sure don't know where your brains are, _boy_." Sky raged at him after Harry very nearly botched one practice situation. "But if they're in the seat of your pants, I'll certainly kick them right back into your head if you do something _that_ stupid again!"

Then there was Ron. McGonagall kept her promise about not expelling him from school, instead she sent him to his parents to help them tend to Fred. But he remained a sullen recluse, keeping away from as many people as possible—even Harry and Hermione when they were able to visit. The initial review of the incident placed the blame squarely on Headdy for provoking the attack, and heavily criticizing him for blatantly egotistical-motivated actions for his clear distain over a newer and quicker way of performing the very spells he himself had created. That in itself was suitable grounds for not only dismissing him but stripping him of any teaching credentials, and research funding. But these weren't normal times, as Mr. Weasley explains when Harry came by for a lunch-time visit.

"The official hearing won't be for another week, but it's very likely to be postponed indefinitely until current matters have settled down. But Headdy is clearly at fault for stepping over the line. They'll throw everything at him as a result."

Mr. Weasley set down the sandwich he was eating before continuing. "We knew he was a hothead. Spell Researchers aren't a pleasant lot to be around. So singularly driven and married to their work and utterly impatient with assistants. It's a clear wonder how they even get along with anyone at all. Especially Headdy's, with his overwhelming pride, he always hated being proven wrong or shown up."

"But wouldn't that put Ron in the clear?" Harry hopefully asked.

Mr. Weasley slowly shook his head. His entire character became more glum than usual. "It doesn't matter about Headdy, or what he did to Hermione. Assaulting a Teacher is a serious offence, Harry. "He quietly explained. "Good reasons or not, I fully expect Ron to receive a serious reprimand for his behavior. Most likely he'll be considered 'expelled' from Hogwarts for his violent behavior and oblivious disrespect towards a Teacher.

"And that will mean the end of his education. He'll receive no diploma, certificate, or certification of Magical Ability, and most likely be considered a Squib. As a result, he won't be eligible for any job at the Ministry or employment in any magical field. I imagine he'll work for Fred and George in their Joke Shop once it's all over, or maybe he'll find work that's more physical than magical. But anywhere else, he'll be turned away instantly."

Harry couldn't do anything else except look distressed, especially after Mr. Weasley explained, "The inability of one to control their own temper is a certain sign taken by many of the individual's inability to manage their own self-control. It's what my Father once taught me."

After that, Harry was simply too miserable to even start talking about Percy.

But Mr. Weasley saw something from across the table in Harry, and gazed at him directly as he spoke.

"It bothers you, Harry—I know. But there's very little we can do."

Harry felt some relief. He wasn't going to try raising the matter of Percy, much to his immediate, but miserable, relief.

_Locks are extraordinary things._

_Simple mechanical or complex electronic designs, all are designed to give one an additional sense of security once that door or gate is closed and locked. But to thieves (and certain investigative officers) skillful enough, they're just a manageable inconvenience of time—usually taken in trying to circumvent the obstacle._

_With magic, that's easily done with the properly applied enchantments. _

_But my purpose in teaching is to prepare them for those times when you simply don't have the time or privacy to perform magic. For that, they need to understand the many structures of locks to defeat them._

_I go through the dynamics of the 'Art', using numerous locks, both Muggle and Magical (including an old fashioned Waxman Diamond Four-lock that Slughorn simply called a "Bastard" without the hint of blush, before launching into a very lengthy tale of his many youthful encounters with them) from different ages as examples. And when things start becoming boring for the students, I just liven them up by asking for volunteers to practice what I've been explaining. A few such employments of that and there's nary a droopy eye in the whole class, since they now realize all of them are fair game for helping with a demonstration._

_Mean? Well, yes. But that's how I was trained, and how I'll train others._

_It's also how I spot something wrong with Harry. When I first taught him the skill, he was very enthusiastic-- beating a Yale Heavy-Duty Triple in less than thirty seconds…_

_Now it takes him two minutes. His mind is clearly elsewhere. _

_As the Class leaves for the day, after giving them the classic Jack Parr joke about the woman in Brooklyn who would lock four of the seven locks on her apartment door every night so to figure out a way of telling which locks were locked or not__1__, to deal with before next class time, I'd called out to him to stay for some small talk. He saunters over as if I'm about to punish him, which clearly isn't a good sign. _

_But my tact gets quickly to the problem._

"_It's about Ron?" I ask, but Harry really doesn't answer until everybody's out of the room. And even then, it takes a while for him to finally work it out._

"_Somewhat." He finally says._

"_As in?"_

_He teeters on the moment. That point between heart-heavy confession and angrily telling me to mind my own business. I'm not too terribly found of the melodramatics, but keep myself in check and not rush Harry. He, like everyone in the Advanced Class, are walking on frayed nerves instead of sunshine._

"_Have you ever wanted to help someone, but couldn't figure out how without possibly loosing everything as a result?" He finally asks._

"_More times than I care to count." I answer. "It's a fact of life."_

"_Wonderful." He discouragedly lets out._

_Yea, true. "But everything's wrapped up with the officials. Ron's fate is in their hands now, and there's—"_

"_It's not about Ron." Harry now reveals. "It's about Percy, his brother."_

_Ohhhhh…The fancy one who was sooooo sure of himself that he burnt his bridges, only to find out later that he hitched his wagon to the wrong stars. I've seen him drifting around here; too ashamed to lift his head and walk normally, and too ashamed to even speak, moving swiftly through crowds avoiding all eye contact._

_Yes, I knew him. Didn't think too much about him because of other matters, but what came as a surprise to me was the discussion Harry witnessed between Percy and George. From Harry description, Percy was the Sinner pleading for release from Hell, but with George all he wanted was forgiveness. Unfortunately, Percy burned his bridges with his family—and was facing a lonely existence if help didn't arrive…_

_But, how do you rebuild a burnt bridge?_

"_After that," Harry concluded, "They went their separate ways—"_

_And the five minute warning bell rang, ripping Harry from his gloom._

"_Oh Damn! I'll tell you later!"_

"_I could have been a real prick by making him stay and go over things, but I didn't want to ruin things and went as far to conjure up am excuse note to give to his Teacher in the next class to be certain._

_And if that Teacher didn't like it, I would personally explain to him why he should have in the first place._

_So, how do you rebuild a burnt bridge?_

_First, you find some really good material…Or at least try to._

"_Honestly, Mr. Day," McGonagall replied with a tired sigh behind the Headmasters desk, "While your intentions are in the right place, this is not the right time to even attempt such a feat."_

_She didn't exactly look her best sitting there in the office, and I really didn't want to press her. Nor did I want to let Harry down._

"_Well, it doesn't need to be a major project, Professor—"_

"_Headmistress." She corrected, cutting me off with a wave of her hand. "It's my new title."_

"_I'm sorry…"_

"_No worry, Mr. Day. But returning to the subject, I'm afraid there isn't much any of us can do to mend that particular rift."_

"_Percy seems to be willing." I said._

"_Yes, and that's good of him." McGonagall nodded. "But the damage he inflicted upon his very family will take much more than an apology to repair. Even if we force them together, I doubt anything good can be achieved with everything occurring as it has."_

"_Yes." I sighed finally. McGonagall wasn't going to be much help in this matter, not that she didn't want to see the Weasley family whole again, but there were 'other things' that needed to be attended to first._

_And one of them, she nailed me right between the eyes with._

"_There's been an occurrence in London." She directly leveled at me. "Your Miss Hazel has vanished."_

_Oh man…_

1 This was an innocent joke told by then Tonight Show host; Jack Parr (1957-1962) concerning an elderly woman who lived alone in Brooklyn who'd give would be burglars' fits by locking only four of the seven locks upon her apartment door. The story went that after apparently unlocking all the locks, the criminal would still be unable to enter the apartment because all he simply managed to do was to lock him out of said apartment.

7


	61. Chapter 61

Chapter Sixty-one.

Sharing his concerns about Percy lightened Harry's mind considerably, and just in time for the Instructors unleashed upon the unwary students the Second Exam without any warning or indication that they were going to do so. So instead of maintaining civilian guises, they went through it in their school uniforms and robes and dealt with Muggles who were very much alive, and very willing to attack anyone using magic with thrown rocks, bricks, fists, knives and whatever else was available and in reach at that moment. This simulation was every bit as realistic as the first exam, especially injury-wise since everybody who went through it needed attention from the Healers—with several of the more seriously injured being sent off to St Mungo's.

Harry himself was moderately lucky, suffering a bruised face from a thrown brick and a sprained left wrist from a bad fall in the middle of the street. And this time around not even Nott came out unscathed. The large bandage across his nose looked apart of the second larger one that covered the brutal impact upon his forehead, so much so it made people wonder if he could see where he was going--especially as he slowly made his way up to the dorm rooms.

But all in all, the Instructors were very pleased this time with how things went. Fewer students killed by their own stupidity, putting them in the mood to celebrate for once. But many students, including Harry, figured this time around they'd been more careful than Headdy was, and were now having a grand old time laughing at them all.

But with things returning to some resemblance of normalcy, Harry's immediate thoughts returned to Percy. It had been two weeks since speaking to Day about it, and they'd both had been hurried due to events since. With it being Sunday, and no Advanced Classes to be held until Wednesday, things were a little more relaxed; Harry figured it might be a good time for a chat.

Keeping his left hand as sheltered as possible from being banged by the crowds of teachers and other students either idling in groups or hurrying through the halls towards classes, Harry made his way to the Teacher's Rooms where Day, (being a teacher), would have a room to stay weather he used it or not. Of course, the Guard's Station was something of a rude surprise to deal with, since to his recollection the simple toll-booth affair with its short-tempered hatchet-faced guard hadn't been there the week before.

"E's not here." Scowled the haggish Guard.

"Not?" Harry inadvertently replied.

"No, not, never, 'asn't been, never been, and isn't _here_!" The Guard spat back.

"But where could he have gone to?" Harry asked.

"Business." The Guard officially responded.

"Business?"

"Look yew! I'll 'av not time to deal wit yew. Now run yerself along be-for I arrest yew for botherin' me!"

There really wasn't much left for Harry to do except leave. Not that they would have arrested him, or punished him for simply wanting to meet with a teacher, just that Harry didn't feel like running that particular chance and moved back into the crowd to think _who would know?_

_Many_ came the answer at once. Now it was just a matter _who _would tell. That by itself quickly cut the list down to a small handful, and then he cut it down even further by eliminating those who possibly wouldn't associate themselves with him…Or would gravitate toward him…

Horace Slughorn wasn't at the top of that list. But he was closer than that as he nearly collided with harry in the busy hallway.

"Oh Harry!" The Potions master exclaimed. "Long tome, hardly any see…How you've been my boy?"

It was a largely intentional fact on Harry's part that he avoided the doddering Potions Professor who always gravitated towards the more talented students, helping them along with his 'contacts' so to later on ride their coattails to success. Harry would have preferred keeping him at arms length, but he so badly needed information.

"Have you seen Mr. Day about?" He eagerly asked. "I have a question about…the Bazil-Boach Barrel-Rod combination lock."

Harry hoped his quickly coming up with an official sounding name didn't reveal that it was all a lie. Slughorn looked at him in a funny way, wondering what such looked like which made him worry that he may have gone too far.

"Never herd of that one, Harry." He puzzled. "But I have had experience with that bastard Waxman…Four separate locks on one giant structure, reinforced with numerous anti—Oh, we can't talk here. It's becoming crowded. My Office is just nearby. We can chat there without all this bustle going on."

Slughorn's Office was once Snape's Office. Despite the change in occupants, Harry still felt _that_ man's presence with in that room. It was something that was never going to go away on its own as long as _that_ memory remained.

"Good, now Harry, just pull up a seat there and we'll chat." Slughorn merrily offered. As soon as Harry, reluctantly settled in, he found himself presented with a small, flat, black box containing numerous gold foiled squares being held by a smiling Slughorn.

"Candied Pineapple Pieces." Slughorn proudly told him. "From a former student of mine, who's now a Vice-Council in Mexico City…Absolutely delicious."

Harry didn't really want, but he was in a fix; without the Luck Potion (wherever that was) and not wanting to hurt Slughorn's feelings, even if he didn't think all that highly of the man, he took one of the foil wrapped confections with a polite, "Thank you."

"Oh take more, dear boy. I've several boxes." Slughorn urged. "In fact, I may give you a few."

Harry managed a very reluctant smile.

"Problem?" Slughorn asked, making Harry realize his composure was slipping.

"No...No, not at all." He quickly gathered himself. "Thank you, Professor Slughorn."

"It's not often I receive such wonderful treats for such exotic lands." Slughorn smiled back. "Mexico's such a lovely place, so he tells me…"

"Yes. Now, about Mr. Day."

"Sun, music, dancing well into the night." Slughorn went on at his own accord. "Pretty women by the score…I used to be quite a dancer in my younger days, you know Harry." He added with a grin. "I'd like to go there someday."

"It sounds really nice, Professor." Harry replied as politely as he could, under the circumstances. "But, getting back to the subject—"

"Locks?"

"Er no…_No! Wait! Yes!"_

"Yes." Slughorn nodded. "That would involve that American with a taste for cigarettes."

"Correct!" Harry quickly nodded, feeling that he was finally getting somewhere.

"Ghastly things, those cigarettes." Slughorn added with oblivious distaste. "Tobacco should be smoked in a fine Briar, not wrapped up in parchment and lit like a firework."

And Harry sat with the throbbing of his left wrist giving him the only source of relief he had sitting there.

Several hours later, with two flat, black boxes of candied pineapple tucked under his good right arm, Harry angrily went about searching for someone who'd tell him where Day went.

He wanted to dump the stuff, quite honestly. Slughorn was a complete waste of time that ended only when a class bell rang. "Oh! I mustn't be late for a Special Potions Class." He exclaimed, "As the Instructor, I must set a good example."

And if he was late, what would he do to himself as punishment? Take points away from Slytherin? Make himself write a long scroll on the importance of being on time? Serve detention with Fitch? That, Harry sarcastically mused, should be something to see. Pineapple wasn't very high on Harry's list of enjoyable foods anyway. Then again, Aunt Petunia would always feed him food that was starting to turn bad anyway. All that anger boiling away with in him made it difficult to think.

It wasn't until he found himself by the doors to the Danger Room that he calmed down enough to really think. However, at that moment, Dolly stepped through its doors carrying a clip board in an idle manner. She was just as surprised as Harry was to see her there.

"Oh, hi Harry. Long time." She cheerfully chirped.

"Yea." Harry simply grumbled, expecting the worse.

Dolly's cheerfulness shrank away quickly enough as she faced him with hands on her nearly exposed hips. "Ego problems still persisting? I thought that butt kick I administered to you a while back actually was working."

Harry ignored both the sarcasm and his own rising anger to ask, "Is Mr. Day in there?"

"Might….What's it to you?"  
There were millions of things that wanted to be said, and a million more that wanted to be done. Right now, Harry kept the most vile antidotes with in him, to focus upon what was the most important.

"Percy." He forced out.

"Percy?" Dolly was at a clear loss, which frustrated Harry even more.

"Percy Weasley."

"Should I know him?"

Harry wanted to yell, to curse, to do something to relieve himself of the constantly growing pressure of anger that was working away with in him, even if it meant doing something nasty to Dolly—and to hell with it if she pulled a gun on him. He was that mad at her lack of knowing anything to that regard.

"No…"Harry strained, just to keep in control. "But Mr. Day does. Is he in there?"

Dolly's face reddened, weather it was from anger or embarrassment, Harry didn't know. But in a very careful manner, she replied, "He's not here. He's in London."

"London?"

Harry just couldn't believe it.

7


	62. Chapter 62

Chapter Sixty-two

_When everybody's at a loss to explain the oblivious, their typical behavior is to point fingers at one another while exclaiming "Well, he (or she) should have been…" At that point, all you can really do is sigh that things have really gone to hell._

_Saying, "We're doing everything we can about It." is another buck-passer currently in vogue with both Magical and Mundane politicians, and probably will be for some time._

_Once again, I'm seated in the Minister's Office in the same chair facing not the very robust Scrimgeour but a harried, gray little man named Hairricks who if anything was way over his head as 'Acting' Minister of Magic—and was very aware of it. Most definitely a figurehead. Bone wouldn't have been allowed to sit in that place, emergency or not, due to the bewildering construction of what is often called 'Diplomatic Rules and Relations'. Those laws and requirements would have just chewed him apart, but possibly not before he got some good chews in himself._

_"If we had known more about this Hazel person," Hairricks babbles on, "we may have been in a much greater position to deal with her."_

_"What about the briefing file I left with you people upon my arrival at Hogwarts?" I exclaim right back. "McGonagall insisted I draw one up," (after hearing about it from somebody there), "and I gave it to Dawlish to bring back here. Where is it?"_

_Of course, Hairricks didn't know. It was some time ago, and a lot of cleaning hand been going on. Bone would know. Sadly, he wasn't here but back in America for some urgent meeting…Without Archer to accompany him._

_"Well…If Dawlish had it." Hairricks slowly figured aloud. "It would have been placed with the Aurors Office for keeping."_

_That called for a trip to the very same Aurors' Office, which with in its massive multi-story room could have been a surrealistic scene from any Terry Gilliam film. _

_Imagine if you would paperwork on top of paperwork on top of even more paperwork laying on desks in piles so impossibly high that only magic could have been used for support, crammed into cabinets that were on the verge of bursting explosively apart, scattered all across the floor or swirling slowly in the air like bizarre Mobiles over the heads of harried clerks and Aurors fighting an unending battle to contain it all._

_"If it's here," Hairricks sheepishly told me, "it will be found."_

_Yea, sometime either before Voldemort's death by natural causes or after the biblical rapture it'll be found. I simply just left that Office, Hairricks, the Incredible Mess, everything, and stormed my through out the Ministry not caring where I went or who I bounced off of until coming upon Moody somewhere amongst it's hallowed halls._

_One look said it all. Moody never beat around the bush on anything._

_"So, you know." He grumbled._

_"Yea…Apparently everything on Hazel has been…Misplaced."_

_"Well lad, there are better ways of dealing with the matter than what you're doing now." He directly told me. Of course he could have also grabbed and shaken me back to my senses, which is what Sky would have done without any prompting. Once he noticed I'd cooled down enough to be fairly reasonable, Moody laid it all out in simple terms._

_"The Auror Office is treating everything it gets as if it involves Death Eaters in some shape, form or fashion. With such manpower tied up chasing so many things that aren't relevant, it's no wonder why your Witch escaped."_

_I wanted to tell him that Hazel wasn't 'My Witch', but I left it at that simply for not wanting to start an argument. That and I was thinking out a plan of action that required a few bits of knowledge._

_"Have they searched her room, or wherever she was living at?"_

_"It took some of the Department's best Spellbreakers, and quite a few from Gringotts as I understand, to dispel what she'd put up. And in a highly suave Muggle Hotel no less, it's lucky they had an Obliviator along." Moody explained._

_Well Hazel wasn't the type to crash at your more typical doss or overnight at a Hostel. Wealth leaves a definite character mark upon those who've been born into it._

_"Is it safe to go to?" I had to ask._

_"No more safe that it is to stand here and talk, Mr. Day." Moody grumbled back, which could mean anything from A to Z. I had Dancing Queen with me, and the Corvette was suitable for this time of year. Though a little balky from having just healed from from the destruction of the Hogwarts' Express, and Tamm was still wanted by numerous Metro Police Officers bearing a heavy grudge for the one that escaped. _

_And anything involving Hazel I've learned to never try teleporting into._

_The London Hilton had undergone renovations in the previous year, designed to make it more 'accessible' to the continental traveler than tourists, but the latter always managed to be found anywhere if they have enough money._

_I steered Dancing Queen to the rear parking area were the Buses and other simpler vehicles were kept. There was no need to come up to the front with Moody along, I wanted to be as discreet as possible—another rule I've learned when dealing with Hazel. The rear way was more accessible but Moody was ever vigilant—even in the longer than usual elevator ride up. If we came through the front, security would have stopped us halfway across the front lobby. Regardless of what they say, England isn't overly fond of its more eccentric citizens. _

_The first stop was on the sixth floor, where the original stakeout crew had their post in one a double bed rooms usually palmed off onto tourists while the wealthier visitors head up to the upper roomier floors. There really wasn't much to see beyond the less than quaint buildings across the street and less to talk about. The Spellbreakers still there were contending with the results of backlash involving what they went up against up in Hazel's room, with the help of a Healer, and not to readily wanting to speak about it. They were shaken, battered. Hazel never played fair when it came to protecting herself, and if you weren't ready for it you had a fight on your hands._

"_The rooms are largely clear." The Lead Spellbreaker tiredly informed us. "There are areas that are highly active and dangerous, but you can at least enter the main living area without harm."_

_The guy looked as if he'd seen better days. No amount of whiskey or sleep could ever bring life back to those cheeks, at least not in a week._

"_Know any good musicians?" I accidentally asked, and quickly added when the Spellbreaker though I was making fun of him. "Hazel sets her barriers up along the lines of music."_

"_Oh?"_

"_Yes." I nodded. "Scott Joplin in particular…It was in the file I gave the Aurors' Office."_

_That, unintentionally, sent him over the edge. Not in a yelling, violent sort of way but a more quietly simmering anger that was bound to be unleashed one he returned to the Ministry to give his report. I let him go at that. Maybe something good would come out of it like people being more attentive when given something very special._

_But just as I was turning to leave, Moody called out; "Didn't you defeat such a barrier back in Fresno, Mr. Day?"_

"_Well…Yes…" I responded._

_Moody simple smiled. I knew what he was getting at._

_It's only natural, really. Me, the 'Expert' on Hazel telling people what to do, would suddenly find myself at the forefront of dealing with this latest mess. Well, fine._

_There are times when I just simply let my mouth dribble on well past the time I need to stop. Sky calls it my need to "Kick my own Butt". Yea, but then again, the ball does have to get started rolling somewhere at sometime…Right?_

_The Glasses I always carry with me, the problem came in finding a small enough that could be used. It was too late in the day to raid a music shop for an electronic organ, like the one I used in Fresno, but a musical instrument in the right hands can work just the same. The problem was nobody here knew Scott Joplin, and I've never worked a Recorder. Going from memory was even more fun, and explaining Ragtime to a flute player who had no concept of music beyond was vogue in the Magical world was doomed to be an exercise in frustration until a bright thinking Auror brought along a nice big bowl that could be used as a Pensive. Moody did the honor of copying all my memories of Hazel for the bowl, which gave me a very un-nice headache. _

_After that, the musicians and Spellbreakers went at it with the Pensive._

_And emerged with a very profound expression of enlightenment._

"_Blimey! That Witch is a genius!" One exclaimed with oblivious respect. I just wish he didn't do it so loudly, his voice echoed through my aching head several times before finally quieting down. But at least they hurried on their way up, borrowing my glasses since the only thing I could do was sit there and suffer—while Moody requested the Healer to fetch me a 'good tonic'._

_Well, it worked. An hour later, I was feeling better and we went up by teleport because the entire protectorate Hazel left was completely and thoughally dissipated._

_The room was as one would expect from a Penthouse Suite; larger floor space with far better furniture, shag carpeting, mini-bar and self-contained kitchen, nice electronic items and a sizeable view of Central London and beyond through larger than average windows. Yes, typical Hazel, right down to the bowl of mixed exotic candies on the coffee table in the living room. A self-made mix, consisting of cellophane, paper and curiously foil-wrapped stuff in silver and gold. Nice, but no thanks. I never sample anything Hazel leaves behind._

_But what wasn't typical Hazel was leaving numerous expensive clothing behind._

_She was always 'Ready to Travel' to numerous safe places, well stocked to tend to her needs…Which made me wonder; why stay at the Hilton?_

"_It was her?" I asked the Auror in charge, a tall but doughy man, of the surveillance. He looked sternly insulted by the question._

"_The descriptions were handed to us by Your Bureau, Sir." He sternly responded. "And the Witch in question was identified on numerous occasions coming and going from these rooms."_

"_Positively?"_

"_Yes…Positively, and Accurately."_

"_And I suppose you also had lads following her about?" Moody stepped in._

"_As Standard Procedure, Sir." The Auror stiffly responded. "We followed her all over London, and in outlying areas._

_Moody's 'eye' shifted to me before asking the next, even more pointed question; "So, how did she give you the slip?"_

"_She Apparated." Sniffed the Auror. "A bold move that caught us all by surprise."_

"_So," I step in, "your telling us that after following her all over the place, presumably on foot and vehicle, that she suddenly ports-out leaving you with no clue as to where she went?"_

_Moody smiles. I know he's right there with me as the Auror simply stands flustered._

_And before too long, even he understands my last question. _

8


	63. Chapter 63

Chapter Sixty-three

_It's a simple rule; you gotta know where you are going to be Porting to when Porting. Usually this involves having a very clear image of where you want to go fixed in your mind before doing the jump, otherwise things can get really messy if you so find yourself imbedded in a tree, building, wall—whatever. There have been many in the modern era that haven't, they now occupy the file cabinets of Police Department's Cold Case divisions as 'unsolved crimes of a heinous nature'._

_Using one's imagination is helpful, to some degree. But it doesn't hold a light to actually knowing the area where you want to port into…_

_That's what Hazel had to be doing. I've never known her to travel beyond Los Angeles, until recently. And even being away from an area for years tends to wreak havoc with the best of memories. That would explain what Hazel was doing while being watched, every step of the way. Now, it was a matter of separating the 'fact' from the 'fiction' because Hazel's not that dumb—nor is it wise to simply write of the visits to public areas, because you never know when you'll need to vanish into a crowd._

_Neat Hazel…Very neat. For most of that night, Moody, several Aurors' and myself with Dancing Queen following close behind visited all those locations after leaving the Hotel. Several involved high-end clothing stores of Fleet Street and Seville Row. Not surprising, she must have lost a lot of stuff when kicked out of South Cal on top of what was left behind at the Hilton. Other places included fine dining establishments, a solicitor's office (puzzling), Hyde Park (several times at both day and night), and Heathrow Airport. Outside of London, and it was really late by the time we got out there, the places Hazel visited ranged from large private estates to simple small cottages all apparently at random and none for sale._

_Another misleading ruse?_

"_You know," Moody started musing as we puttered along one motor route, "the Malfoy Estate isn't too far from this road…"_

_Malfoy, the name perked even me up. The Lead Auror with us was especially jazzed. "The lane they're on is only a half-kilometer ahead."_

_Nasty visions dancing in my head prompted me to divide my attentions between the Browning in my jacket and numerous defensive spells in my head as we slowly creped down a lane that was nothing more than a deeply rutted horse-and-carriage trail, long worn and very deep—almost too deep for the Bentley to travel down, magical or not, a fact we were constantly reminded of whenever the car's undercarriage scraped bottom. Dancing Queen had to fly, doing so just above the hump in the middle of the lane. There was simply no way that low-slung Corvette was ever going to make it on its wheels._

_But along this lane, the Malfoy family did live for several generations. They were an aloof bunch, typical of long-reigning pureblooded families rich in wealth and well established relationships amongst their own ilk and purchasing favors from Government, the latter of which was right now being straightened out back in London. But when you mix gold and underpaid officials, no matter what you've done to prevent it corruption always rises to win the day. And when the truth of their involvement with Voldemort came out, according to the Lead Auror, the entire family fled for somewhere unknown—at least to him, and he knew about all of the various summer cottages and other family getaways the family had._

_Cottages? Didn't Hazel look at a few…_

_True to fashion, the Malfoy Manor couldn't be seen from the road due to all the local flora and fauna forming over the wall around the place. Only an impressive wrought-iron gate with the word "MALFOY" across the top in the same dark material._

"_Empty, you say?" Moody lowly growled, breaking my thoughts._

"_We immediately sent a contingent to his and all other known Death Eater residences." The Head Auror sniffed. "Every home was abandoned."_

_Moody was turned towards the direction of the home, his scared face set with an oblivious frown. Especially his magical eye…_

"_That's not what I'm seeing." He stated._

_The Auror wanted to stop right there and then for a look. Not the brightest thing to do, but then a Ministry vehicle driving slowly along a hidden country lane in from of a home of a Death Eater you've pretty much have pitched any attempt at stealth into the trash at that point. But Moody was insistent; there was someone in that house—only they were too far away for Moody to make them out properly. Not unlike the magical wards that were simply covering the first fifty yards of the grounds extending from the gate to the house. In that area, only plants and insects were living—nothing else. Not a bad thing over all, but it does give one notion to pause; Moody noticed all of this with his magic eye, but not the area between the fifty yard barrier and the house. To him and his abilities, there was nothing there that was hazardous by his term of the definition. Weither or not it wasn't expected that anything could get past the first barrier didn't concern me, it was the matter of weither or not that initial barrier was reactive to any magic with in its immediate vicinity--say on the other side of the wall traveling down that carriage path. _

_It would be a sign of intensive paranoia if the field reacted every time to anything magical coming down that path. Still, the Head Auror wasn't going to play the odds without heavy support. So without much of a pause, he ports back to London, leaving Moody, a freshly hired Ministry Driver (who was as useful with magic as any first year student of it) standing outside the place. Even with Queen's arsenal, none of us were willing to risk it without real support which arrived minutes later with the Head Auror. _

_It was support in numbers, unfortunately. Oh, judging from the look of a few of them, they've been around long enough to have picked up on a few things. But compared to the number of those who were outrightly too green and too senile to even hold a wand, much less know or recall their defensive spells with push goes to shove. Even Moony was in a foul mood at seeing this hurriedly assembled group, and stared daggers as the Lead Auror hurriedly assembled his forces together. He even had more of a beef; whomever he spotted in the Mansion was becoming aware of us out here and moving more quickly._

"_Should've Apparated in when we had the chance." He grumbled under his voice._

_Watching the assemblage, I nodded…He did have a point._

_And also what he said was in anger. If the one in the mansion was expecting trouble, there would have been a good chance we would now be in a world of hurt or dead. Prudence, even as aggravating as it was to stand there waiting, was always the preferable way of acting._

_In minutes, the Auror had his army assembled and split into two groups. The second group had the honor of defeating the barrier, while the Auror, Moony, I and about six others would take the leap past the barriers edge right to the front steps. Queen would orbit above it all with weapons bared just after we made the leap, ready to blast anything that tried welcoming us with hostile intent._

_But I wasn't sure she could be quick enough. We all went in once the forces were set…_

_And I've never in my whole life herd such a racket. I appeared right in the middle of loud honking, crying, swirling white feathers before feeling the nips of small sharp mouths and the scratch of claws. It took a moment to refocus myself to discover that I arrived right in the middle of several albino pea-hens with the broods, and they didn't appreciate my intrusion into their ordered life. Hell, even the little Pea-chicks got into the act—but never too far from their mommas._

_God, I miserably wondered, was this night ever going to end?_

6


	64. Chapter 64

Chapter Sixty-four

"This," Sky announced holding the dark handgun high for all of them to see in the classroom, "_is not_ a Colt Model 1911A .45 caliber pistol. _It looks _like a Colt, _acts like_ a Colt—even _feels_ like a Colt. _But, it's not a Colt_. It's a Para-Ordinance P-14 .45 caliber pistol, named such because of the manufacturer and the number of rounds it carries in its munitions clip. I can't begin to tell you of all the people who've been fooled by that simple fact, most fatally.

"Of course with the Everload charm the number of bullets the gun has is moot, but not all of the guns you may encounter out in the World will have such a charm placed on them for your convenience. So do listen to what I am about to teach you, because _it will save your life!_"

The Muggle Items of Interest class didn't start off as your typical Muggle Studies class. Once the students assembled themselves in the lecture hall, with extra time allowed for those still tending to their exam injuries, Sky made his introductions in his usual gruff manner before turning to the chalkboard and wrote down the following; _Firearms, Automobiles, Aircraft, Ships, Computers, Being._

"The purpose of telling you all about these things is to further your advantage over your opponents by furthering your knowledge and expertise in the areas I have written there on the board for all of you to see." Sky narrated commandingly. "Firearms or Guns if you like, are for combat and self-defense—also a really good bluff if you're nervy enough. Automobiles, Aircraft and Ships are for the advantage of not always having to rely on Magic to get anywhere at any given time. I shoulda put Trains and Buses up there as well, but we'll cover those as well…

"Computers are up there, because you'll discover much to your surprise how much of the Mundane World is actually run by them in ways both plainly oblivious and quite startling. But most of all, the most important think I am going to try getting through your heads is Being."

Sky gave them a few extra moments to catch up on their note taking before loudly launching into the final reason. "All of you seated here, and your parents, and their parents, and their parents, would stand out like sore thumbs in the mundane world. Granted, a few of you know what all those things are that I've put up there on the board…

"But not all of you would know what to do if instructed to 'dial up the operator', or 'get' the daily paper, or go on a 'munchies run'…Or even 'kick back a pint or two'. All you would do is just stand there wondering what the hell I was telling you to do.

"So," he came to his conclusion, "'_how_' is the main objective to teach those of you aren't how to be Mundane."

To Harry's astonishment there were more gasps of surprise than dejected moans coming from those who remained of the Advanced Class, though Neville was plainly petrified by the notion. Nott was seated well behind Harry, where he could only be seen if Harry turned his head completely back around—a feat that wasn't very wise to perform while class was in session. But there was no doubt that he, like Hermione and the Creevey's, were soon going to be pestered by their magically raised counterparts about what they'd should be expecting.

"There won't be too many opportunities for note taking." Sky formally informed them. "Much of what you'll be taught will concern what you're able to remember from the instructions that will be given to you in both written and verbal form, before being tested on such in a realistic setting.

"And of course, "he added with a broad smile, "do expect surprises along the way."

That didn't sit too well with the Advanced Class students, who by now could fill every seat in the large lecture hall. Little by little, their number had been whittled down. Now, any display of displeasure or dismay, be it a moan or an oblivious look, was grounds for dismissal from the Advance Class. No longer was there House distinction to seperate students. Their overall number was simply too small to allow for distinctions to remain. And those who remained were very much aware by what means had their numbers become so thin, and what embarrassments and humiliations they've face amongst their fellows should they 'fall out'. Squirming in their seats as they did now over what they needed to do was much better than dealing with being a failure.

But it didn't stop Harry from musing on the ideal of all of them getting sacked for the same reason. What would the Instructors do? What would happen? A lot was placed at the disposal of this special class, for it to simply fail on such a grand scale was utterly unthinkable. Yet, he thought of it so deeply that it took a sharp nudge from Ginny to bring him back to reality…

And Sky's rage.

"POTTER!"

Sky's face was redder than Uncle Vernon's ever had been. And twisted up with pure anger.

"I HAVE BEEN CALLING YOUR NAME FOR THE PAST FIVE MINUTES, AND ALL YOU"VE DONE IS SIT THERE LOOKING STUPID!! EXPLAINE YOURSELF!"

Harry became very aware of everybody's attention being on him, and of the nervous fear beginning to rise up with in him. He took a deep breath to calm himself before speaking.

"WELL!!" Sky thundered impatiently at him.

"Sir, you mentioned the use of instruction books. May I ask what these books will be?" Harry calmly returned.

Sky looked as if Harry had suddenly grown his arm extra long and slapped him from where he was on the fourth row. He stood there with a stunned look on his face until the realization finally reached his brain.

And then he became vicious.

"Just what would you _expect _them to be, Sir?" he sharply sent back.

Harry blinked. He expected a more direct answer, not one where he had to fill in the blanks like some algebra formula. He was also aware of the rising tension in the room, a thick heavy presence wrapping itself around his nose and mouth suffocating him into inaction. But he wasn't about to stop; Sky was openly baiting him. And knowing that, Harry chose his tact carefully.

"Well, Sir…I am assuming all things Muggle. Am I correct in this assumption?"

A slight snicker went through the student body. Sky didn't react to it as he would have, being focused upon Harry as he was.

"It depends on what you _assume_, Potter." He scowled back.

Ginny nudged him, this time with her foot. The entire class seemed to be holding its collective breath now. Harry knew he was being pushed into making an oblivious mistake, it was that clear.

Well, he thought while inhaling, might as well…

"I assume that as part of our Advanced Class training, "Harry officiously began, "we are to understand and use Muggle technology and emulate Muggle behavior to the level of proficiency that we would actually pass for Muggles amongst our unknowing peers, actually allowing us to 'vanish into a crowd', as it were."

"And just how are you _expected_ to…'act like a Muggle?"

Harry didn't take too long to answer that. All he had to do was remember what it was like living with the Dursley's.

"Comment endlessly about the news when around others, eavesdrop on what out neighbors do in their yards, always one-upping our neighbors through the acquirement of better things—then bragging about those better things to their faces. Concern ourselves to the point of absolute fantasticalness about sports. Rudely comment on what our fellows, foreigners, and those silly old Lords up in Parliament are doing nowadays…"

Sky once again had his surprised look. That's when Harry remembered one more thing.

"Also, how to toady up to our superiors to gain both favor and the power we so desire."

Sky was still surprised. No sound of any type or kind was herd in the lecture hall.

Then a scowl formed upon the American wizard's weathered face. "If you think I'm going to teach any of you here how to brownnose, "he growled to the class, "you all are plum outta your minds!"

"Gee Harry, for a moment I thought you were going to get expelled."

Harry didn't connect the voice with anyone he knew in the class, and he knew many. Male sounding, on the verge of breaking into adulthood, as several were in the Gryffindor Common Room. And that was only the beginning of the praise. Both George and Nott, the latter now a welcomed part of the group, were very impressed with his nerve. But amid the praise and backslaps, Harry knew deep within that he was only very lucky to have caught Sky off-guard. Next time, the American Wizard was going to be ready and target him in every available way possible as revenge for what Harry did to him.

Oh the trouble my musing gets me into, Harry mentally lamented to himself—after a very sour looking Ginny told him that the Headmistress wanted a word with him.

The corridors were oddly silent and barren of people, and it wasn't even seven in the evening. But the emptiness only magnified the dread at hearing what McGonagall would say about disrupting class with his cheeky behavior. Upon finally entering the Office, her cool glare upon him reinforced what he already figured.

"Close the door." She commanded.

He did.

"Sit down."

He did, taking the middle chair of the three grouped around the desk in a half circle.

McGonagall then took a gentle breath, and began; "I understand you have concerns for Percy Weasley."

Harry's eyes nearly bugged out of his head from the surprise before McGonagall's smiling gaze. "We'll discuss what happened in class later." She told him. "But right now, this matter involving Percy…Why are you so concerned?"

It took Harry longer to organize himself than he liked, but once together there wasn't much to stop him from explaining everything to McGonagall; from seeing the exchange between Percy and George, the whisper in his ear, and the warnings from both George and Ginny to finally turning to Day for help.

"I see." McGonagall simply said, moments after Harry finished. "And has Mr. Day been helpful so far?"

"I don't know…I've yet to speak with him. He's away from Hogwarts."

"On special business." McGonagall nodded.

Harry wanted to ask what that meant, but another matter overtook that one instantly, "How did you know all about this, Professor?"

McGonagall simply regarded him with a bemused look. "It's not 'Professor' any more Harry, though it appears that I'll be 'correcting' people for some time on the matter." She started explaining. "As for knowing of such things that occur here in Hogwarts, that Mr. Potter is a long held and very protected secret with a very oblivious answer."

Dumbledore's portrait just over McGonagall's left shoulder smiled and nodded to him quietly, simply letting Harry know he wasn't going to get a direct answer to that question.

"But getting back to the matter of this discussion, Harry, it's simply for the best to allow this matter to go at it's own pace. Because if they are forced, the results generated could be most unpleasant for everyone involved."

Harry blinked in surprise. Surely, with the proper words in the proper ears things would move along quickly to resolution. All that was needed was for people to listen, so they'd know that Percy was willing to make amends.

McGonagall simply looked critically at him then. "He's caused much trouble for his family, Harry. It's always tragic when a family member decidedly turns on their family, especially one so self-motivated as Percy. Granted, he didn't start out from the best of places, others have come from much worse and fought harder in their climb to the top—but Percy clearly drove himself to rise above all that were around him.

"And upon achieving that success," McGonagall quietly concluded as she spread her hands over her desk with sad realization, "did everything he could to protect that success. He wasn't about to abandon all that he so desired, he was going to protect it at all costs…

"And did."

9


	65. Chapter 65

Chapter Sixty-five

Harry was left with much to think about during the walk back to the Common Room.

Choices…It always came down to choices. The matter of one's character always influenced what choices they made at given times, as Harry himself was constantly reminded of—since he himself could have been a Slytherin had it not been for the very conscience choice he consciously made at that time.

There was no denying what choices Percy made in his quest for success. But if what he saw between the wayward Weasley and his younger brother outside the Common Room, Harry easily figured that Percy was making an earnest effort towards regretting and repenting of his past actions.

But, _would_ his family really forgive him?

It hung on that question; it would be his family's choice—nobody else, no matter how earnest, could intervene. And without any help, Percy faced a nearly impossible task in winning them back. It was frustrating for Harry to be told to 'stand and watch'; he wanted to bring both sides together in an impassioned effort to bring this openly hostile situation to a close. And Harry did so intensely dwelled upon this; he never saw or heard Dobby rush towards him from the side…

And thusly bowled over Dobby, who was trying to wave him down.

_"Eeep!"_

Harry himself landed with a sprawling "Ooof!" of his own, upon the carpeted corridor, before turning to see the over-dressed House Elf laying sprawled out on the floor with its eyes closed. As if dead.

But as Harry moved towards the fallen elf, praying silently that he was alright, Dobby's eyes snapped opened.

"Dobby!" Harry was overjoyed that he was alright. But his should of joy only made the Elf leap in fright.

"Oh,MisterHarryPotter Sir…Iamterriblysorryforgettinginyourway"

Dobby rattled off the words so rapidly they stuck together as they left his mouth.

It didn't take Harry too much to figure out why.

"Dobby, please, I'm sorry." He carefully and slowly said. "Are you hurt?"

"Hurt? No. I'vebeenhurtmuchinmylife, but—"

"I wasn't looking where I was going, Dobby. I—"

"Ohnoitsnoproblem, MisterHarryPotterSir—"

_"Dobby!"_

Now the elf really jumped, gazing fearfully at Harry. Harry gathered himself, calmed down, and spoke to the Elf in quieter tones. "Dobby, I did not mean to hurt your…It was an accident…I wasn't… paying attention to where I was going…"

After a few moments, Dobby didn't look quite so frightened or tremble so much.

But Harry still worried. "Dobby…Are you alright?"

"Well," the Elf began as he drew himself up slowly, "I've had worse from my previous Masters."

That was a relief.

"Is Mister Harry Potter alright as well, sir?"

"I'm fine." Harry relieved smiled. "Yes."

"Oh," Dobby delightfully squeaked, "Dobby's so glad to hear that…And he also had a message for you from Mr. Day."

"Message?" Harry wondered as the Elf rapidly bobbed his head

"Yes, yes…He told me to tell you that _'Hazel is here._"

_Iodine…How wonderful to make your acquaintance again._

_Well, actually, any antiseptic they'd use for minor wounds does tend to sting sharply no matter how it's handled. But there's nothing like Iodine to really set the nerves on fire, especially in the hands of a nervous novice healer or the old fashioned kind that slaps it right on before the bandage._

_Peacocks...I never thought those overgrown chickens could fight. Now I'm wishing I'd found that out in a different manner. Just like was what was in Malfoy Manor that Moody spotted from the road, and had to be long gone by the time all those birds were finally quieted. Naturally I got stuck with the blame for triggering the alarm, Moody however saw it in a different light concerning the haphazard way the Lead Auror acquired and assembled his forces without any 'real' Aurors, even those on loan from the European continent, present…_

_Alright, deep breath, try to relax so to figure out what to do next. Especially what was so important about Malfoy Manner that somebody risked getting caught?_

_Moody's back there now trying to figure that out, I'm here in the Hogwarts Infirmary being mended. It also bugged him that his eye couldn't give a better description of who it was rooting through the house. _

"_It's fishy." He grumbled in a foul way before I was sent here. I'm hoping he'd get back here with some kind of report or someone else if he wasn't._

_At the time, I was fixated on the fact it was Hazel doing some shopping around—and honestly, breaking and entry wasn't below her. We were looking for any clue as to where she may have went at the time we drove past the Malfoy home, add what Moody saw, (or couldn't see), and the rest falls into place; it was Hazel…_

_Now, as I calmly lay on the bed, I wonder…_

_Hazel wasn't the kind to be reckless. She still had her 'Boys' with her,( or 'assistants', as the Ministry tended to call them), to find the traps and numerous pitfalls powerful magical families establish to ensure their property remains safe and untampered with. She also uses them to make sure all loose ends were tied up and buried before moving on to other things, like the acquirement of another's property for instance; she'd always make certain in those cases that the former owners weren't in any position to ever be returning. Given that the Malfoy's weren't already captured, or killed, or rumored to be in either state at the moment, Hazel wouldn't try taking over the place until more firmer news was made._

_But what do I truthfully know? All things assumed, Harry is as British as they come, and the world knows what's going on over here. Hazel was never the kind to pass up an opportunity to expand her own wealth; material or knowledge-wise. With the definite fact that a lot of these Voldemort-supportive families left valuables of many kinds behind, well, Hazel wouldn't resist…_

_There are too many factors involved to even make a good decision, and I do so not want paranoia to start creeping in. Once you become paranoid, it's time to start looking for a new profession._

_I meet Harry at the stairs. (Actually, he met me—but whose saying). Not the ones that moved when they feel like it, but one that was a very nice grand stairwell of dark mahogany that glistened under many coats of gloss that lead up to the floor where the Instructors' Lodgings were. Being unceremoniously ushered out of the Infirmary because my injuries didn't warrant staying there once the bandages were in place, I was starting to shuffle my way up the stairs when Harry rushed up. Honestly, I'm not in the best of condition. He takes note of that very quickly, before breathlessly asking, "How close is she?"_

_Not only am I reminded to be more careful about the words I choose to speak, but that I need to think them out more clearly before speaking them in the first place._

"_Quite honestly, Harry, I don't know." I replied with a pained breath. "She's managed to elude those following her in London, and may have been rooting through Malfoy Manner this night._

"_But, it wouldn't surprise me if she does make an attempt to come here."_

_Harry didn't take that very pleasantly. At least he didn't throw a fit, and I wasn't in the best of shape to stop him if he did. But with this bit of bad news added to his plate, I wouldn't be surprised if he did._

_But it didn't stop me from trying to calm him, "Moody's out looking over the Malfoy place." I told him. "If there's anything, he'll yell. In the meantime, we can work on Percy—"_

"_Can't." Harry flatly said which brought me up short. _

"_Huh?"_

"_Headmistress McGonagall does not want us meddling in that matter." He flatly droned. "She believes our 'interference' would make things even worse…She'd rather let things occur naturally."_

_Well, she did have a point; you can't force adults to do anything they don't want to do. Percy really did a number on his family, but seriously this ostracism stuff is for cheap dramatic films and soap opera plots. And sometimes, even if they don't like it, you have to see things in motion with people so they will eventually realize their mistakes. _

_It also took my mind off of Hazel._

"_I'll tell you what." I said to him. "Give me two days to think of something that will get things moving along with Percy."_

_He gave me a dubious look. "That may cause more harm—"_

"_Not if it's done right." I quickly put in. "The subdued approach…That would work."_

_Harry looked at me critically for those first few minutes I literally spun a working plan right out of the air before him, but as it's points were further ironed out Harry's face broke into a very knowing grin…_

8


	66. Chapter 66

Chapter Sixty-six

_Two days later in McGonagall's office, Harry wasn't in a joking mood. Neither was I, in fact._

_Moody had returned by then, a brief jaunt before returning to London to brief the returning Bone on current events, reporting that several hidden locations have been looted clean at Malfoy Manner. "Those hideaways were absolutely missed when Aurors first scoured the place after Albus' death." He grumpingly explained. "Cloaked not magically, but with slideable wall panels that were flush with the wall they were impossible to see at first glance with out 'proper help'." To that he pointed at his magical eye. "They could be opened by latches hidden in the same manner. What they could have contained is anyone's guess, though I'll make a wager that it involves Dark Magic."_

_Dawlish, visiting with Moody, visibly chaffed at that. His people did the original search, and utterly miffed it. And Arthur Weasley, sitting there with his wife on a fine couch, looked all-knowingly bitter on the matter. Also there, besides them, Harry, McGonagall, and myself, were George and Ginny. Nobody was comfortable there, especially Moody, and definitely Dawlish, standing before a none too pleased McGonagall._

_"If Mr. Day's assumptions are correct," Dawlish quickly stepped in, "we'll be ready if she reappears. But for now, we wait."_

_McGonagall wasn't looking all that pleased, seated behind that immense desk, but kept herself reserved in that fine old English way that only showed a portion of the anger that lay simmering beneath her stern mask of a face._

_"Of course, the further assistance of Mr. Day would be very appreciated in this matter." Dawlish went on. "His insightful knowledge of this woman would prove most useful to us at the Office—"_

_"What would prove even more useful is to not misplace things in the Office." Moody rudely grunted with increasing volume. "And to stop sending trained Aurors off on wild chases through the countryside!"_

_Dawlish's face became even more redder, especially as he turned to face Moody. Of course, I've been prepared for such a thing ever since seeing the Aurors' Office back in London and summoned, five at a time, plain vanilla nine-by-thirteen envelopes filled to the hilt each with the same lengthy information concerning one Bernadine Hazel. It took four summonings to do it, and each pile I laid directly in Dawlish's hands much to his amazement._

_"There. Twenty copies of what I originally sent you people." I told him. "Please try not to loose them."_

_I deliberately failed to mention the packets already sent to the Ministry by some very large Owls, but that was at McGonagall's insistence. Come to think of it, she didn't mention that fact either. All she did now was sit there with an amused little smile on her face watching Dawlish cope with an armload of large slippery envelopes, as did many in the portraits on the walls. Had to admit he did have control over his anger, swallowing it along with his pride before bidding us all a "Good day' before leaving the office with Moody on his heels. But he did manage a glare at me while going through the door._

_Once the door closed, McGonagall let out a sigh. "Now with that settled, we can move on to other things."_

_And then turned to me. "Arthur and Molly Weasley have been hearing 'stories' about that occurred during their children's stay on Fresno, especially the events concerning Bernadine Hazel…They would like to know more, if you wouldn't mind explaining to them."_

_George and Ginny started cringing as their parents eyed me in a very sharp way._

_Even Harry was looking worried._

_Well, they didn't disown the kids on the spot. But the Weasley's were quietly simmering over not being told about their children's adventures in better detail, while also being proud of their bravery at the same time. Needless to say, quite a few of us took a hit in the favor with them over it, but McGonagall summed it all up nicely after the family left;" I shouldn't worry too much." She said. "They've always been a resilient family."_

_I glanced at Harry, who didn't know what to make of the remark._

_"I must apologize for putting you on the spot like that, Mr. Day. "McGonagall continued. "But both Molly and Arthur had herd 'wild tales' of what happened during the summer, and had become concerned over what really happened out there."_

_At least the Ferrari wasn't mentioned. I've no ideal what they'd do if they did, or where that thing was now._

_"Fletcher constantly talks about Hazel." McGonagall then explained. "We needed to know if it was truth or embellished stories."_

_"Even as a Ghost, he still lies?" Harry wondered. But by his tone, it was oblivious he figured that most of what Fletcher was saying was lies. _

_McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "He would never so blatantly lie to anyone of the Order, Mr. Potter. Though, I will admit, there were times when he did stretch the truth. But several facts he's stated have just been proven, while so others not touched upon by Mr. Day remain questionable, but vindicated simply by what occurred over the course of these past two days. It's apparent this woman is planning something. _

_"It would be foolish of us to believe that the influence of the Dark Lord extends only to the shores of this country." She continued while turning to me. "This woman may either be a foreign agent trying to reestablish contact, to join His band…Or perhaps, she thinks she can defeat him."_

_Even for Hazel that was a tall order. From what I know, both suffer from overwhelming ego, crave power, and aren't going to allow petty paper pushers to stand in their way with their little arms outstretched shouting 'Halt!"--which actually reminded me of Fudge in some twisted way, since he tried something like that while still in charge—but to the wrong group._

_Yet, I couldn't think of any two people who were more opposite, outside of sex, to each other. He despises the mundane, while she embraces it. He remains hidden behind masked followers, while she makes sure you know it was her before she kills you. And she'll even use sex to get what she wants…I'm not overly sure about him, but I will keep my mind open._

_Had to, things were becoming just too weird._

_"But more importantly," McGonagall then went on. "I request that you start teaching the ability of Wandless Magic. You're dealing with Mr. Dawlish just now, and what Master Sky has demonstrated, have made quite an impression on several people here—I myself in particular. So, I request that it be started at once."_

_That, she dropped right on my lap—leaving me quite floored. Even Harry was surprised by it._

_"I though Sky was working on that." I quietly asked._

_"Yes, he is. And a great many other things…So many he's stretched quite thin, and requests help." McGonagall explained while eyeing me. "You're other too companions are needed in other venues and that Mr. Day leaves you open to help."_

_Yes, it certainly did._

6


	67. Chapter 67

Chapter Sixty-seven.

_I don't normally play before an audience, even if it's a crowd that knows me._

_I get nervous. _

_Ironic, isn't it? _

_Me, the Master Thief, getting the shakes before playing his big scene before a crowd of eagerly anticipating observers who want to view this weird thing called 'Wandless Magic'. Of course, it serves me right for using it indiscriminately around those who've been doing it with specially made sticks since time beginning the sheer concept of magic being controlled without such help is a bit rough to swallow._

_It's all a matter of having sufficient will and confidence. Like performing non-verbal magic…_

_Well, here I go. I step out casually into the center of the Great Hall, which has been prepared for this event. The long tables that usually dominate this floor have been removed, so an assembled crowd of students, teachers (those who were able to attend), and Ministry Officials all standing in haughty expectation of seeing something that warranted their journey up from London, stand around the center of the floor in a tight 'U' shaped gathering around the stout table which I smoothly strode towards. It wasn't really much different than doing a heist. By the time I reached the table I was calm and ready._

"_Greetings and Salutations to all." I grandly begin. "As many of you here know that I teach the Serendipitous Entry and the Muggle Security Systems foiling classes, and do expect those papers to be ready by this evening."_

_The students shuffle nervously, especially as they are eyed by the Teachers and Officials. Apparently some haven't been working on their homework as I had so hoped, but that can be for later._

"_To those who do not know me, I am Jayland Day—a specialist in specialized entry and evasion." There really wasn't any other way of saying I'm a burglar, especially in front of a bunch of Officials who'd raise a very loud stink about it. So we just gritted our teeth and carried on. "Today, I will be demonstrating an ability that many of you may look upon as being 'fringe' or 'crackpot' magic. And that is 'Wandless Magic', the extension of one's will to perform a desired magical task without the use of a Wand."_

_I could have gone on, touching the fact that what I was about to do practically challenged all that they knew about magical application and theory. But really, that's too much icing on the cake and everyone's standing. So it's best to get things started, and I do that by pulling the fake Hi-Power from my jacket. Only the Officials react to its presence, at least they know what a gun looks like. The Students and Teachers stand calmly, because they've easily identified the powder-blue replica as being simply inert and harmless, unless you smacked someone across the head with it, from handling them in numerous magical and physical disarming training sessions. "This demonstration will be a simple, yet effective, use of such ability in practical matter. All I need is a volunteer to play the aggressor."_

_A simple request, but very surprisingly one that produced an assortment of low snickers and guffalls from the Officials. They probably hoping this American would make a fool of himself, so to justify their long held belief of American inferiority—even to the point of stepping up when several students stepped forward to volunteer. The one in question was a short fellow with a sour face and whinny voice that got on my nerves. He stepped out into the center with his hand raised while calling for the students to halt and go back, then turned to me in a very officious manner._

"_Mr. Day." He began in such a snobbish way, "while my fellows and I are somewhat intrigued by this…'ideal', but we are also concerned by the possibility that this 'demonstration' maybe a staged performance."_

"_Are you serious?" McGonagall said from behind me, which I wasn't expecting at all._

"_Headmaster McGonagall, please understand," the Official smiled in what he believed was a charming manner, "my fellows and I have been witness to a great many magical charlatans and scams. While we cannot doubt the honesty of Mr. Day, we must step in and ask that one of us be allowed to be the 'assistant' for this 'demonstration'."_

_Sky, who was behind them, just shrugged as McGonagall behind me drew a breath._

"_Sir, I assure you that such is not a lie." McGonagall stiffly replied. "I myself have seen Mr. Day demonstrate such abilities on numerous occasions, as have many oh staff here at Hogwarts." Then she seemed to relax while turning to me…_

"_Do you have any problems with the Official's suggestion?" she directly asked._

_Honestly, I didn't. Besides telling me her faith in me, McGonagall in her own way granted me permission to really give one magnificent display._

_How could I pass that up?_

"_No Headmistress, I have no problem with the Official's request." I smiled to her._

_After she nodded her approval with smiling "Very well." I returned to face the Official in question, formally bowing; "Whenever you're ready."_

_I really should have known better, in fact I should have predicted the officious little twerp's reaction even before I so formally spoke to him…_

"_Oh, I'm not the one who's volunteering." He chuckled. "That honor goes to one of my mates."_

_Not only did I burn, but had to stand there for several angry minutes while those Ministry Officials argued and haggled amongst themselves as to which one of them was going to stand out in front of the crowd. _

_Typical politicians. Even the Teachers were becoming annoyed with their antics, but yet they heedlessly went on with their squabbling over which one of them would be the one who'd 'volunteer'. The Students simply found it hilarious; snickers and muffled laughter could be occasionally herd coming from their numbers. But for myself, I simply had it._

"_Gentlemen, please." I pleaded to the group. "Lunch is to be served in the next hour, in this very room, to all Hogwarts students. So we need to hurry along."_

"_Do not rush us, Sir." A tall, wild-haired Wizarding official snapped back at me. "We're trying to find a suitable volunteer, and will have them matter settled shortly."_

"_And it is." I casually tossed back. "Step out here please."_

_If there is one thing that really gets under a politicians' skin is being reminded that they are nothing more than a 'public servant'. Granted, they carry on like we're a bunch of serfs who our them our lives, but when election times comes around that attitude shifts back where it's suppose to be. But that's American, this is Britain (actually, its Scotland—but who'd notice), and here the officials tend to be elevated by means of 'favor' or some other fancy means of brown-nosing. But all in all, they dislike being ordered around by those they're supposed to be serving._

_This time, I was already raising my hand and closing my fist in the motion when that wild looking fellow started getting really ugly. When he started to yell, I pulled my arm back rapidly and he sailed right out of his group to a perfect belly flop landing upon the tiled floor—squawking profanely all the way. And everybody simply went nuts over it, while the Officials simply stood there like the idiots they were…_

_Only they weren't hiding that fact at all._

6


	68. Chapter 68

Chapter Sixty-Eight

Even with the pause for Lunch, which required the reemergence of the long dining tables with their silver serving sections, both students and officials couldn't stop taking about what they've witnessed. But there was a clear difference in how the conversations carried on; Students and Teachers were simply enthroned by Day's demonstration, and descended upon both him and 'Master' Sky with questions involving proper technique and the amount of ability one would need to perform the equivalent of mental spell-casting—only without the wand.

The Officials, on the other hand, spent their lunch arguing over how such could be faked, especially right under their noses and in front of so many. There's was perhaps the loudest discussion on the matter because they spent so much time arguing probable causes, then reluctantly wrote them off because one of their own constantly pointed out the magical improbability of that particular occurrence—which lead to even more arguing, much to the delight of the students. Since due to their arguing amongst themselves, they unwittingly made themselves into lunchtime entertainment for the Students enjoyment…

Except for Hermione.

Unusually quiet and withdrawn by choice since Ron's dismissal from the Advanced Class, she'd glare shapely upon the Officials as they bickered as if they were rude children whom she wanted to banish from the Hall immediately. Harry was very well aware of this change, as were many others of the Advanced Class. The oblivious frown on her face, the chilling silence that hung about her and the clipped manner which she spoke and wrote her scrolls in all indicated the anger that seethed with in. Some of the Group already made passing remarks to Harry about the change in her character, or between themselves that Harry learned about later. None of it though was done out of meanness; having gone through so much and coming so far through it all, they were concerned and worried about her current condition—and expressed this fact directly to Harry when he was alone.

Harry did want to speak with her, and often. But matters and other events had kept getting in the way, such as the matter of Percy and his Family. Harry had spied the prodigal son speaking with his Father, hopefully at length. He couldn't tell because people kept getting in his way, blocking any view of what was going on between the two.

And with neither of them in the Hall for Lunch, Harry worried about what was going on with them. But with them gone, and Lunch about half over, Harry realized he had the most wonderful opportunity to speak with Hermione then and there; coming from the invitation given by Ginny to come visit with George later on that day. That sparked the notion that perhaps Hermione would like to come along, seeing that since Ron's dismissal she hadn't come for a visit. It would be the perfect way to get close to her, and, if lucky, see Ron again.

Though she greeted him as a close friend would, to Harry, there was something that struck him as being not quite right.

"Hello…Harry." She greeted, showing her speaking ability had greatly improved in recent weeks.

"Hello, Hermione." He smiled back. "I was wondering, after the demonstration, would you like to come along with Ginny and George for a visit with Fred?"

Hermione's face started to brighten, which Harry took as a success. But at that moment, the Officials, as loud as ever, apparently came to some sort of conclusion amongst themselves, which for moments stole Hermione's attention. Her face darkened as she watched them, becoming a mask of sheer anger for several moments before turning back to Harry with a wide smile as if the past few moments never occurred.

"After…the Demonstration?" she chirped.

Harry made no mention of what he saw, in spite being surprised by the back-and-forth change. He just smiled and nodded, not wanting to say anything that would have made a scene.

But in looking back, later that same day, Harry wished he had asked.

At the start of the second half of the special demonstration, the Officials, all flush with pride and confidence, made the very loud pronouncement that they had 'figured out' how Day was able to perform his 'Wandless magic'.

"Mass Hypnosis!" openly proclaimed a much shorter, but prissier in both appearance and attitude, Official as they all stood before Day assured of their findings. "You've, by secretive dark magical means; have applied an Imperious Curse upon every Teacher and Student here at Hogwarts—as well as our confederate, causing him to fling himself from out midst and onto the floor in a very embarrassing manner!"

That touched off an explosion of exclamations ranging from shock and surprise to absolute disbelief and anger from both Students and Teachers in the Great Hall. Even McGonagall herself approached the Officials with the most incredible look of shock on her face that Harry had ever seen to ask in a highly pitched voice; "Surely you cannot be serious?"

And even with Moody giving his own experienced opinion to the contrary, the Officials would not budge in the slightest. "It's the only possible conclusion to what has occurred." They rebuffed, and then demanded that Day be arrested on the charge of teaching and practicing Black Magic upon Hogwarts' grounds.

At that point, it became nothing short of a riot; half angrily shouting down the Officials and the other half trying their best to calm the situation down. Wands were drawn by both sides, and pointed angrily upon each other with dimly herd threats being uttered concerning their use…

Then, much to everyone's surprise, the Officials started to float, clearly not of their own accord—nor had they even realized it until it suddenly occurred to them that they were looking down upon the startled faces of many looking up at them, or when they started tumbling end over end in the air interrupting their proclamations.. And the higher they rose, the more franticly they thrashed about with their arms and legs in the air wailing and crying for someone to bring them down.

It wasn't Day, or even Sky, performing the feat. Harry could easily see they too were as surprised as everyone else. They were looking through the crowd of Students, as was McGonagall and several other Teachers. Harry followed their gaze; it was just to his right…

And there was Hermione. She wasn't pointing, or exclaiming as those around her were. She was simply looking upward with the most sinister smile he had ever seen on her face.

And Harry went cold inside.

5


	69. Chapter 69

Chapter Sixty-nine.

_To say that McGonagall was vivid would not have been the most grossest understatement ever made. Despite there being no love lost towards the plight of the now utterly shamed faced Officials, now on their way back to London after being saved from being splattered all over the floor of the Great Hall (and so soon after lunch might I add), there were worries about what an 'official investigation' would turn up._

_Apparently, one can't make Ministry Officials float into the air simply 'because', and expect no action in return. Nor should they drop them from a great height if they ever do, and still expect nothing to occur…_

_At least Hermione was bundled out of there during the commotion. I doubt any of the Officials saw that happening, but then…_

_And that had McGonagall fuming. _

_But as time passed, nothing occurred. Oh, there was the occasional runner from the Ministry wanting the weekly report on how things were coming along with the Advanced Class and all. But no snoops. No inquiries. No embarrassing questions about The Demonstration…_

_So for now, with no such bad news coming, we assumed we were safe. _

_McGonagall, on the other hand, wanted to be very sure about things and so instructed Sky and myself to be more careful when teaching the students the 'Wandless Way' as it was becoming called._

_And to be especially observant of Hermione at all times, especially when any Official decides to 'drop by' for a visit._

2


	70. Chapter 70

Chapter Seventy.

It was Harry's final try, and there was no time to waste. He slid the Audi sport coupe neatly around the inside of the curve with feet on all the pedals while managing to keep all tires on the country road, barely missing the heavily loaded Lorry coming around the same turn on the outside, unlike the first time. With that behind him, Harry mentally patted himself on the back as he power-shifted with the barest touch of the clutch while shoving the shift into a higher gear and pushing his foot down on the accelerator. The engine roared with the increase of fuel to its cylinders, and Harry gave the steering wheel a little nudge in the opposite direction the car wanted to go thus keeping another spin out from occurring. Once done, the car rocketed down the straight roadway with little effort from Harry needed to control it further.

The 'Run', as Sky called it, was another in a multitude of tests to sharpen their learned abilities against the unexpected—which would be anything the instructors cared to throw at the students in the Danger Room, usually focusing upon what the student was lacking in the most. High-speed automotive handling was Harry biggest sore point; everything else was fine especially handling aircraft (which everyone easily passed, including Neville) because it was just so much like flying a broomstick. But automobiles required a different sort of understanding; at low speeds, they moved like reluctant cows while at high speeds they were frightened rabbits. The only difference in that Harry could find was the fact rabbits could stop and corner far better at high speed, where cars were susceptible to sudden spins, slips and sliding if they were forced into performing the same maneuvers—as Harry found out too many times.

Then again it was his own fault from not paying more attention in class when the techniques of such were discussed, or while driving. Too much of his time had been taken up with wondering what they'd do to Hermione for what happened during the demonstration. And now, _he _was at risk of being dismissed from the Advanced Class—regardless of being the one Voldermort wanted to kill.

The irony didn't escape him, but if he wasn't at his best it was certain that McGonagall would never let him hear the end of it.

Nor would Dumbledore, he imagined. But regardless of it all, Harry forced himself to concentrate. And before him on the road, a road construction crew, complete with heavy vehicles, numerous piles of dirt on either side of the road and a road block of several cars trickling through the narrow way through the obstruction, materialized before him. At the speed he was traveling, there was no way for Harry to safely stop even if he stood on the breaks while franticly down-shifting--and plowing into the rear of the last car in the waiting line would cost him dearly. But there between the piles of dirt and the simple wooden fence that ran along either side of the roar, Harry found a way. It would be tight and might damage the car as he raced through, but it was far better than smashing the car up totally in a rear-end collision.

First he steered towards the space while downshifting, the engine screamed in protest and the whole car bucked wildly at it hit the dirt. Harry quickly grabbed the wheel and resisted the urge to hit the breaks. He didn't need the car sliding at this moment; he needed to thread it between the fence and the dirt pile. Harry knew he was doing to loose the door mirrors possibly off of either door as he shot through the narrow opening instantly leaving a moderate spray of dirt and asphalt , well that was just too bad if it did. His concerns were elsewhere, and soon he was back on the country road rocketing away from the site…

Then the road fade quickly away as did the car, and Harry found himself standing before a somewhat pleased Sky and very jubilant classmates.

"Not too shabby, Potter." The American wizard spoke while making a notation on his clipboard. "Definitely an improvement over the last time…_Bedford! Next!"_

At least he passed _that _portion of the exam. There was still Combative and Evasive Driving to deal with, but for now the exhilaration of finally succeeding made him practically float on air…

"Look Harry, it's nice to see you happy and all." George pointedly told him during dinner. "But would you kindly come back to us? There's still some important things to do down here, and we'd really like you to be around to help with it."

Being under so much pressure to pass what we considered a simple test, it wasn't all that easy to come down from such a victory. Especially after being repeatedly humiliated for his failures, but Harry soon recognized the need to bring himself back down to earth—especially for the next grueling parts. But still, from time to time, the elation would return, annoying all around him.

It was in the afternoon of the second day, a Sunday, of this that Ginny approached Harry outside the Gryffindor Common Room. He was approaching the room in his currently elated mood, while she had just left it—and urgently rushed to him.

"Harry," she firmly told him. "Follow me."

Not only did Ginny's abruptness snap his mood, it also raised his concerns. But she wouldn't answer any of his questions with anything solid, and always managed to stay out of his reach all the way to the familiar door of the Weasley's room. She rapped on the door three times rapid, before turning to a bewildered Harry with a very stern look on her face.

"There's someone I want you to have a visit with." She directly told him.

Harry started to ask who when the door opened. It wasn't a rapid opening, as one would have expected, but a slower, more tired rate of movement…

And Ron stuck his head out through the opening.

"You know you don't need to knock." He frowned at his sister.

Ginny just simply motioned towards Harry. "I brought you a friend to speak with…You do remember him?"

Ron turned, and was quite astounded to see Harry standing there—but in an ashamed sort of way. Harry himself wasn't much better. Seeing Ron's dower appearance was alarming, not only was his red hair unruly but his face sagged into a defeated frown and Harry was struck dumb for being at a loss as to what to say to him

The awkward silence lasted until broken by an annoyed snort from Ginny, "Look, if you too want to stand there and look at each other--fine. I'm going to visit with Fred."

And with that pushed her older brother out of the doorway and entered the rooms.

It was awkward, standing there. Harry wished for something to jump start the conversation, any conversation in fact, as Ron sadly looked upon him seeing what he could have been if he had better self-control. But it effectively took all of the elation right out of Harry, far better than and Dementor could.

"I suppose you want to see my dad, Harry?" Ron sadly asked.

"Well…not your Father exactly, Ron." Harry stumbled in his reply. "May I come in?"

Ron gave him an irritated look while pushing open the door. "You know you're always welcome, Harry." He said with slight irritation, "You're a friend of the family, remember?"

It burned. But as he followed Ron in, Harry said nothing in response since he hadn't been very diligent in seeking Ron out after his dismissal—no matter how many times he visited. There was a lot to make up for, and he knew it.

"Um…How you've been, Ron?"

Ron stopped and turned to face Harry in the middle of the room. There was a slight hint of resentment on his face as he sadly gazed back. "Here…I've been here. Mum's been happy for all the help I've been givvin' Fred, and he's getting' better because of it…Otherwise," He added with a limp shrug, "nothin'…So what's been happening…you know…with the others?"

It was just as awkward for Harry to respond to that. He didn't want to upset, or worse, depress, Ron any more than he was. Nobody in the group had asked about Ron after his dismissal, just like they had with any other 'Failure'. So Harry had to choose his words carefully, muting facts and glossing over truths without being too oblivious with his words. Then again, George and Ginny probably spoke at length about what was going on with the group whenever they were along with Fred…It wouldn't take too much for Ron to overhear what was being said…

"You are missed, especially by Hermione. And with Ginny and George not saying a whole lot—"

"That's because I keep away from them as much as possible." Ron quietly interrupted, looking ashamed. Harry couldn't believe what his friend just said, and was shocked into silence.

"I know Mum and Dad understand what I did." Ron slowly continued. "They hated Ready for quite some time, apparently since their time at Hogwarts…But, I can tell they're disappointed in me…And they had such high hopes…You know."

Harry nodded, not knowing what to say.

"I was thinking about living with that relative. You know, the Accountant we don't talk too much about." Ron thoughtfully mused. But I just can't think of a way of getting out of here…"

"But Ron," Harry suddenly found his voice. "What about Hermione?" It came out not 'just because', it had forced it way out of Harry with sheer brutal force as an unconscious means of keeping Ron from doing something stupid. "Look, you can't leave, any more than Hermione can—especially have what recently happened. And that instructor got exactly what he deserved. If it wasn't you, then it would have been either Dean, George, Shamus—even me—going after that bastard-"

"As I recall, "Ron cynically responding, "was a lot of yelling and finger pointing from all of you at the time."

Harry felt himself boxed into a corner, and had to act fast. "We would have gotten him afterward, Ron. His brutal methods wouldn't have gone on for very long…But Hermione; you just can't leave her behind…"

That made Ron move from being resentful to being ashamed over considering leaving. In his miserable state, he had been focusing upon his misery and had forgotten about her. This, Harry jumped on. "She still needs someone with her, regardless of how far she's come from her injuries. Someone she knows, and knows very closely—especially now."

Then Harry said what he dreaded having to say ever since coming face-to-face with Ron; "You've undoubtedly herd what she did recently?"

The embarrassment left Ron's face, replaced by a wicked grin that made Harry's heart sink and insides go cold.

"I overheard George and Ginny telling Fred soon after it happened." Ron gleefully remarked. "I always knew she had it in her."

"Ron! People—"Harry stopped, recalling how the Officials arrogantly acted towards all of them. Yes, they deserved what they got—but Harry still pushed it aside because it was wrong. "People almost got killed! Even at her maddest, Hermione wouldn't have dared go that far with her powers!"

Ron's eyes narrowed and he appeared ready to shout something quite nasty back at Harry, when the front door to the rooms burst opened revealing a startled and very out of breath Ms. Weasley.

She was also very frantic as well.

"Harry! Something's terrible has happened. McGonagall want to meet with you right away!"

9


	71. Chapter 71

Chapter Seventy-one.

And not in the Headmistress' Office either, but instead in a meeting room Harry recalled entering at the start of the Triwizard Championship just adjacent to the Great Hall. Nor was he aware that Ron was with him until McGonagall, standing at the head of the long table that dominated the room, remarked; Well, Mr. Weasley, this is definitely a surprise….But one we can live with."

Ron's mother, who had been leading them, stopped and turned around with a very surprised look on her face. At that moment, her husband, Moody and Day entered the room, in that exact order. Mr. Weasley started to speak, but saw his wife's expression and stopped before even beginning. Moody however wasn't at all hesitant.

"What is it Minerva?" he asked.

With a quiet glance at the Weasley's, then to all others in the room, she gravely replied; "The enemy's closer than we believed."

"There appears to have been a spy at the Ministry." McGonagall continued after all had been settled. "Ambassador Bone isn't altogether certain, nor is he coming directly out with it, but many of the reports concerning the Advanced Class, that have been filed through the Aurors Office, have vanished from that office. And an investigation has revealed that several in that office had been placed under the Imperious Curse by persons currently unknown."

Day was about to say something, especially after the stolen documents were mentioned. But stopped himself when it became clear that the workers had been under another's control, but grew very astonished when McGonagall announced what else was taken…

"Also taken were several copied of Mr. Day's report on Bernadine Hazel." McGonagall continued. "Such apparently show The Dark Lord has an interest in this rival."

"Which makes for an very interesting turn of events, would you all agree?" Dumbledore, from a small portrait over the fireplace mantle, observed. "I doubt Tom had ever figured on dealing with any rival at this point in time."

"I would be very surprised if he hadn't taken an interest in her by now, Albus." Moody firmly commented.

"A match made in Hell itself." Day frowned. And then to McGonagall, he asked; "Were they able to figure out who did the fixing, or is that simply a forgone conclusion?"

"That is currently being worked on, Mr. Day." McGonagall briskly responded, before turning to Harry who had been standing there taking it all in. "Mr. Potter." She began, "I want you to inform the Advanced Class that due to the occurrence of these serious events that all students are now to be restricted to their Houses, and will only be allowed to move about during instruction times and under heavy escort. There will be no exceptions to this rule, ever! For as of this moment, I consider Hogwarts under siege."

The news didn't go over well at all with any of the Houses, including the Advanced Class. The difference being the fact that many in the Advanced Class had been earnestly practicing many offence/defense spells with and without their wands, making them a highly formable group that what would be usually be expected. But Harry didn't need to guess what would happen, especially with the reports in Voldermort's hands. Forewarned and forearmed, the rude surprise would be upon them and not the other way around. This fact he was forced to repeat constantly to members of the Advanced Class, even to his own close friends who were obliviously spoiling for a fight—and were more than likely to start it now.

That and having Ron with him didn't help matters very much, because there were those who were wondering how Fred was getting along. And there was also Hermione, sitting there closely with him. Harry knew by looking that separating them was not going to be easy, or pleasant. Ron wasn't helping in that fact by making up for all that lost time, and with Hermione enjoying his company a little too tremendously…

But there was already too much to handle. Later, Harry told himself, he would have a serious talk with Ron about Hermione—as much as he dreaded it.

And once again, Ms Weasley disrupted his thoughts by barging into the Common Room—where upon seeing Ron became vividly angry.

"Ronald Weasley! You know better to be in here!" she practically shrieked at him. "Now come on, I need help with Fred!"

Ron seemed to wilt under the glare of his Mother, and slowly started to go. But Hermione suddenly latched on to his arm as a defiant child would a favored toy that was being taken away from it. The whole room fell silent, even Ms. Weasley was shocked into a calmer state.

"Hermione dear, you can still visit with Ron." She gently explained to Hermione. "It's only because he was expelled—"

"No he wasn't!" Hermione suddenly and quite loudly barked back.

The uncharacteristic behavior made Ms Weasley recoil in surprise. Everyone in the room just stared in stunned silence, especially as Harry steeped in between them…

5


	72. Chapter 72

Chapter Seventy-two.

It wasn't because of loyalty to them that he did it, or in joining her defiance towards the only person who had ever shown him motherly affection. It was because Harry had a fear, a very strong fear that if he just stood there as dumb as everyone else everything he held dear would be completely destroyed without any hope of repair. That he wasn't about to allow happen, not here—not anywhere.

It also left him in a very awkward place. By moving out between the two parties, he was now exposed to all—as he became very aware of very quickly. And without anything really to say to any of them, Harry pushed his mind forcibly for something that would work.

"Hermione…Look…Please calm down. Ron's mum didn't mean to be so…forceful with him. It's entirely my fault that he's here."

Harry winced inwardly as the jumbled mess of words spilled from his mouth. His brain moved in fits and starts, slapping together anything that would work—or at least sound right. He couldn't pause to guess what the others were thinking of him at that moment, or weather they were thinking at all. That he kept pushing aside to concentrate on keeping all that he loved from suddenly flying apart.

When Hermione's defiant look broke, he gave himself a little cheer with in. And as Ron looked at him with surprise, and his mother behind him gasping suddenly, Harry kept pushing himself to say more things. If he stopped, he'd loose the momentum.

"I…should have taken him back to his family's rooms…Really, it's my fault."

Hermione gazed at him with oblivious uncertainty, as Harry worried that she'd display another affinity for Wandless magic. Seeing how attached she was to Ron, he knew it would take too much for that to happen. To prevent that from occurring, his mind fired up an incredible ideal…

He then turned to Ms. Weasley, and innocently asked; "Would it be alright, under present circumstances, if Ron could stay with us a little while longer? We may never have the chance to visit him for some time…"

Ms. Weasley seemed startled by what Harry said. "But Harry, you know you—all of you can come—"

"After what just happened, and what the Headmistress just ordered because of it?" Harry carefully responded. "I'm afraid that may not be so easy…"

Even George and Ginny stirred nervously, watching with all the others as their Mother looked at Harry in shock at what he'd just said to her. Harry himself worried as well that he may have said something unintentionally rude to his friend's mother, judging by the way she stood their gaping at him.

The Ms. Weasley drew herself up with a friendly smile; "I really don't believe she'd go that far, Harry. Surely, I don't believe she'd make prisoners out of all of you."

He almost gave into the urge to respond, most from his own surprise at seeing that sudden change in Ms. Weasley. Something very involuntary choked it off, something very odd about how Nott was looking at something just behind him.

"I'll speak with her just the same about it." Ms Weasley continued in the same suddenly pleasant manner while backing towards the door. "As soon as you can, do please send Ron along home."

After she left, a collective murmur broke out amongst everyone in the room. But it was Nott that really caught Harry's attention as he started motioning subtlety towards Hermione.

She had a very satisfied looked upon her face as Harry slowly looked back, one that made him go cold inside.

3


	73. Chapter 73

Chapter Seventy-three

_It came out quite by accident. Contrary to what sort of investigating being done by the Ministry, (and that, I must say, was wishful thinking in all its glory), we started our own in one of the larger lecture halls noted for its giant chalkboards. Once Bone shipped up the facts, (he shared our opinion of the Ministry's investigative abilities), we quickly got working._

_One hour was all it took to have that giant chalkboard covered with names, positions, and probabilities all neatly ordered and sorted with the help of both Mr. Weasley and Moody. They knew many of these people whose names we now had, either from close association or observation at the Office—that insight, and no worry of stepping on toes, gave us the better edge over London. _

_It did, for once all that information was up on the board for all of us to get a very good look at Moody suddenly mentions; "Doesn't Switchner have a home up here abouts?"_

_Moments later, Mr. Weasley fills in the blanks; "His parents have a farm ten miles south of Hogsmead."_

_It may seem coincidental, but further digging, with Bone's help, revealed that as Department Supervisor he had direct access to Hazel files. There was also more; "Switchner has been trying to contact his parents for quite some time." Bone informed us through the crystal orb that Dynell handled, "The Ministry reformation and Investigation has kept_

_And that was enough. McGonagall wanted us out there to check on their welfare and Bone agreed with the promise of sending Aurors up to assist us. So, I lie out here one hundred yards from a farm house, in a forest grove on a miserable December afternoon, freezing while keeping the two-story structure under observation through binoculars. _

_They could at least allow me a cigarette, several packs at least. It would give me some measure of warmth at least…_

_But no flames or warming spells, that was the word, so to prevent exposing ourselves. That's why no Tamm. McGonagall figured due to her implanted magic…Well, you get the ideal…_

_The place was shaped like a giant Dutch barn, slathered with white paint and a black curving roof, with no smoke coming from its single stone chimney. All of its windows shuttered, and no barnyard activity. Not a good sign at all._

_A constant thump and dragging behind me heralded Moody's approach. He may have been stealthy back in the days when he had his natural legs, but now all he does is advertise his presence all-around. But you can't beat that magic eye of his._

_"See anything?" he grunts, after leaning behind the cover of the tree next to me._

_"Plenty." I say. "For a farm, there's no activity occurring."_

_With a stern grunt, he shifts and focuses that eye of his upon the farmhouse._

_"No body's there." He grumbles. "That's why."_

_There's nothing like walking into an abandoned house. The eerie, creepy feeling one gets from entering a place where there should be people has always kept me on edge—make that double with a magical house where all its doors are unlocked. Moody and I entered through the backdoor, which lead into the kitchen. The place was a mess, food and plates were all over the floor, a pot on the stove had long since boiled over, and two chairs were knocked over. Not a pleasant scene, especially with the rest of the house perfectly neat. Aurors soon arrived, swarming all over the farm yard with wands ready, prying and poking through everything._

_Forensics isn't my specialty. That I largely leave up to Sky. But with Fred and Barney along, the three came to the conclusion that what had happened here took place last week. It matched up perfectly with the dead animals the Aurors soon found in the barn. With their nearest neighbors two miles away, the place was perfectly isolated. But still they were going to get a visit from the Aurors anyway, just to see if they had noticed anything odd occurring over here. In the mean time, we're left with an empty house-even the pictures up on the mantle have nothing in them._

_That has Sky noticeably worried. In such a state, he becomes very quiet and fixated upon the spot that has him worried for a very long period of time—until either solving the mystery or coming back later with a plan. He stood there staring at the pictures for the longest time, until Moody was finally able to pull him away._

_"There isn't much more for us to do here." He told Sky. "We'll need to speak with Switchner to get anywhere with this."_

_Sky slowly nodded, not turning away. When he did, all he said was; "Find something to cover those pictures…Don't look at them directly."_

_I myself was a little preoccupied with this thing called warmth before having to go back outside to really listen. There was no luck for such in the house, it was dead. My best hope lay in summoning Tamm and thaw out there. As I made my way towards the open front door, half-way across the living room, the sound of air rushing out of something caught my attention…making me turn towards the pictures on the mantle._

_And I was suddenly drawn into a dark tunnel. _

5


	74. Chapter 74

Chapter Seventy-four.

_I know Sky will have my hide for not being careful. _

_That's the one thing I dread the most; him yelling at me after I've dragged him into a dangerous situation…_

_Alright, that I have coming But for now, I take stock of my current situation; I lie upon ancient stone, cut haphazardly into crude blocks now reasonably smooth and covered with hay, contending with the little aches and pains that are making themselves known to me—incidentally occurring where my body makes contact with the floor. I'm a wreck, but not screwed yet. Still, I'm not taking anything for granted. I know the natives aren't going to be very pleasant, especially when they know I'm mostly functional._

_So, it's just best to lay here for a little while longer…Playing 'chicken' with the natives to see who'll blink first._

_It doesn't take too long to be rewarded._

_"E's still lyin' the're…I think e's dead.' Commented a old, scratchy voice from behind me._

_There was another, who started with a disgusted snort; "I can see him breathing. Yort! Go in there and drag him out!"_

_Besides not being very nice, that second voice spoke cultured English with commanding tones. Had to be someone of wealth or power, or both—or deluded enough to think he was important. Naturally, that one, the 'Master', didn't bother entering the cell door. That was the job of the 'Servant', who moved with a harsh, aged shuffle that betrayed his age. Or at least I thought so, because there was nothing that betrayed the strength of his grip. This person could push a railroad car around and not be winded, except that he moved slowly…_

_"Hurry up!" the Master loudly demanded. "His Lordship is waiting!"_

_I didn't need hints as to who that was. Now I know I was really screwed, if I didn't screw-up in the first place. _

_There were many ways of playing this; one was where the Master would finally loose patience with the Servant, enter the cell, and help drag me out of there. In the confusion following the Master's entrance, I would have enough time to take them both out. The other was having the Master levitate me out, which wouldn't do me much good at all. Oh, I could counter the spell, drop back to my feet and fight it out. But there were others in this place, or so I believed, who'd be attracted by the noise._

_Two people I could take on easily. More at once only occurred in plotted out kung-fu movies, which I know I'm not in…_

_So, I gave the Servant a chance by allowing him to carry me towards the door. His shifting motion also allowed me to swing my freer right arm around. If I hit something with it, that would tell me how much room I had…_

_And when I did hit the door, the Master moved. That told me where he was…_

_And I nailed him with a brutal kick to the crotch. _

_The Servant didn't immediately react to that until I have my kicking foot perfectly based against the cell-door frame, and one good shove slammed him against the open cell door followed by a neck pinch that finally put him out. It didn't take too long to frisk him; a large dagger, a metal ring with some large keys and what appeared to be a bag of candy was all her had—all the while, the Master rolled around the floor in agony while holding where his private parts should be. But searching him while his legs were all bunched up was difficult. From him another more fancier set of keys, and monogrammed snuff-box with a large blazing 'M' on its lid, a pair of throwing daggers in forearm sheaths (really nice), and my small jackknife._

_That really didn't come as any surprise, it's really a good little thing to have handy and well made as well. Made me wonder how much of my personal stuff was now out there in circulation. But really, I've already spent too much time down here. And upstairs, people had to be wondering…_

_Another nerve pinch and he stopped rolling around in agony. Now came the fun part._

_It was the Servant's keys that got me out of the make-shift dungeon, while the fancier one's I figured would get me out of the house. It wasn't a pleasant place, this house. Cold and largely shrouded in darkness that was broken by the occasional fairy-light, which were no better than nightlights at showing you the way around without too much worry over details. And eventually, I found my way to the backdoor._

_The view through the windows wasn't so thrilling; it was late and outside looked like a forest after a fire. Escape though was paramount, getting away quickly and there-by making a teleport back was foremost on my mind at the moment…_

_Then I herd a sigh from behind, right before something hitting me squarely in the back putting me out. _

4


	75. Chapter 75

Chapter Seventy-five.

"I'm worried about Hermione."

"You're worried about Hermione?" Ginny exclaimed. "Oh wow, Harry, that's very surprising…Everybody else here is down right _frightened_ of her!"

Harry and Ginny were the only ones in the Gryffindor Common Room at that late hour. Everyone else, including Hermione, were back in their beds and Ron was back with his Family, so Harry felt that this moment alone with Ginny was the perfect time to confide in her. Instead, he was very surprised.

"_You-_"

"Harry." Ginny matter-of-factly countered, "Don't you remember what Snape tried teaching, before…"

Even as irritated as she was, her voice faltered after mentioning that name…That memory. Harry himself didn't want to think about that man, the betrayal made him so angry it was difficult not to yell or curse when the blood boiled.

But even still, he forced the words out; "Casting…Spells…by though…Not utterance…I remember."

Even Ginny looked a little chastised. "Harry, she's doing it…Without a wand, _she's doing it_." She carefully replied. "But it's how she doing it; before, she had the self-control not to fire off a spell or jinx at whatever made her angry. Now…did you see what she did to my mum?"

Harry couldn't argue the facts; seeing Nott and afterward speaking with him hit him deeply. Hermione, without the ever stern self-control she once had, easily could turn into a monster—especially if provoked. The worry over it stole away any chance he had for sleep, leaving him far less ready for the next round of classes the following.

"_POTTER! Where's your mind at? POTTER! Why aren't focusing better on the task? POTTER! WAKE UP!!!" _The constant yelling of the Teachers dragged him away from the blissful realms sleep sent him to, and finally reaching lunch was nothing short of a miracle for him. The coffee he managed to get down, in lieu of any food, gave him something of a boost through the remainder of the day, though the frequent trips to the bathroom were became embarrassing after a while. By the end of that final class, which he managed to get through by constantly being prodded in the side by Ginny, Harry didn't have Hermione on his mind any more—just sleep.

Unfortunately, as Ginny was leading him out of the classroom, a tall and very narrow Auror approached Harry and informed him, with an underlying coldness to his voice, that the Headmistress wanted to see him in her office— immediately. Harry just sagged while Ginny protested then pleaded, but to no avail and Harry was lead along to McGonagall's Office with the occasional push.

"Busy day, Mr. Potter?" he herd McGonagall asked after being dimly aware of entering her office and sitting down before her.

All he could do was nod.

Then suddenly it felt like he was doused with freezing water. His skin tingled and his body leached so suddenly with in his skin that he couldn't breathe for several frightening moments, while McGonagall was seated at her desk pointing her wand at him.

"My apologies for being so abrupt with you, Harry." She easily smiled. "It's a stimulation spell, I used to use it on inattentive students in my classes before being forbidden from doing so by the Ministry…How do you feel?"

Harry's heart was racing faster than he ever felt it before, and every nerve in his body tingled like ice. It took everything not to suddenly explode from the chair and run who knows where.

"F-f-f-fine." He stammered back.

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "You'll be fine in a few minutes." She easily told him while settling back in her chair with stepped fingers. "I've been receiving all manner of reports from your instructors this day about you being 'out of sorts' today. You know those classes are important for your survival, Mr. Potter.

"Nor is it like you to not get some sleep—so, I ask, what is the problem?"

Harry swallowed as he felt himself calming down. "There's…no…problem." He managed to get out. "I…just…haven't been …sleeping…well…as…of late …that's…all."

McGonagall responded with a very surprised look. "How unusual that you'd be more sensitive that the others to the change." She openly remarked. "Usually, you've shouldered the responsibilities very well."

And Harry wondered if she wasn't about to accuse him of lying.

"I was especially worried about Ms. Granger's condition." McGonagall continued. "Both Ms. Weasley and George had indicated to me that there was some sort of problem."

Harry's mouth suddenly went dry.

"So," She went on, "they allowed Ronald to stay with her in the Common Room for much longer that what would be usual. It appeared to have done them both good, especially Ron…Could you comment on that, Mr. Potter?"

Harry blinked, largely from surprise while wondering just what McGonagall was getting at. "Well…They hadn't seen…each other for…a while." Harry began explaining. "We've been…trying-"

"We?" McGonagall interrupted.

Harry stumbled a little; "George…Ginny…and me. They said that…Ron goes into hiding…whenever I or Hermione come round …for a visit."

"I…see." McGonagall nodded after Harry had finished. "So when Ron accompanied you into the Common Room, he apparently had gotten over his feelings of being ashamed for what he'd done."

"Well…he was made…very welcome." Harry shrugged.

"Of course." McGonagall smiled gently. "What he did is now another school legend." Then she looked at Harry in a serious sort of way; "But don't you even find it odd that Ron's mother would change her mind in such an abrupt manner as to allow him to stay with you in the Common Room, after demanding he'd leave?"

Harry was now even more confused than ever. "Not actually." he blinked. "He'd been sulking about and…withdrawn since his dismissal. Seeing him there…with us…probably made his mum realize that the visit was…doing him some good."

It was a good answer, and Harry was quite inwardly pleased with it.

Then McGonagall fixed him with such a dark stare he became very cold inside; "His mother felt very odd shortly after leaving all of you in the Common Room, Harry. She immediately went to the Infirmary, where it was discovered that she'd been placed under an Imperious Curse. Fortunately, it wasn't a permanent placement, but it's raised a good many concerns about Ms. Granger."

Harry just stared.

The very first thing Harry did upon running all the way back to the Gryffindor Common Room was to find Hermione.

Forget sleep. Having been quite utterly scared to within an inch of his life by McGonagall was very effective at keeping him going for the rest of the night. The Aurors standing guard in the halls didn't flinch or try stopping him in his flight through the Halls to the Common Room, only to find it empty…

For moments, he simply went crazy with worry before it finally occurred to him that they were still probably having dinner in the Great Hall, leaving him feeling like an idiot for not realizing that sooner. And promptly, Harry raced out through the door…

Right into Filch, carrying Ms. Norris in his arms.

"Hey!" he exclaimed. "Watch where you're—POTTER! How dare you try harming my Precious!"

It was just a simple accident, Harry had no ideal who or what would be on the other side of the door. But with Filch, any apology, especially his, would be quickly brushed aside by the foul Caretaker—which was proven almost instantly.

"Have you no respect, _boy!_" Filch lit into Harry with eyes blazing with anger, even Ms. Norris added growls and hisses to the altercation. "Just for that attack upon myself, and my pet, I shall report you for assault! _And don't you dare think I won't do it!"_

He quickly latched a bony hand onto Harry's arm. The Aurors on duty showed no interest in getting involved in the affair, and a few even though it was funny—but kept their laughter to themselves.

Then Hermione came into view at the far end of the corridor. Harry spotted her instantly, and remained focused upon her which irritated Filch even more because of the lack of attention Harry was paying him. Even squeezing and shaking Harry's arm while berating him had no effect, because Harry was watching as Hermione's face become dark as she focused upon Fitch…

And Harry broke away from the Caretaker, sending him tumbling to the floor as he placed himself between him and Hermione with his hands out before him shouting, _"Hermione! Wait!"_

7


	76. Chapter 76

Chapter Seventy-six

_"It would have been much better", drawled the very articulated voice through the waning darkness, "if you had gone out the front door instead."_

_ Great. I'm regaining consciousness while listing to some one admonish me for not doing what they intended me to do. _

_Gee, sorry._

_As my eyelids unglue, allowing my vision to finally focus, there before me stands a very tall man with pasty white skin, long greasy black hair and a hook for a nose if I ever saw one. He smiles down at me they way a predator would their prey. I know him, there's no need for introductions._

"_Hello to you too, Professor Snape."_

"_If you were a student of mine, I would have deducted several hundred points from your House for rudeness, Mr. Day." He says without much as a flicker. "But, then, I shouldn't be too terribly surprised by your attitude towards me. I hardly think my former confederates would speak fondly of me now."_

_He settles himself down into a fancy high-backed armchair before me. In moments, I realize that I'm seated in a similar chair._

"_They remember you with a vengeance, Snape." I manage to smile. "My advice would be to never go anywhere near Hogwarts for the rest of your life, and afterward."_

"_I assure you, Mr. Day, I've no fear of 'Moving On', as you Americans so put it. There will be no cowardly vestige of me lingering behind amongst the living." He so satisfyingly smiles back at me. "Anywhere."_

_That's nice and very considerate of him, so much that I just simply won't tell him that his former friends will be looking for him once they arrive at the Other Side. Why give him the comfort of knowing anyway? I believe in Universal Justice; why spoil the nasty surprise he'll receive through a cheap display of self-satisfying meanness?_

"_However." He continues with a serious tone, "The matter with you is different. Not that I'm going to kill you, which I assure you Mr. Day, I won't. But my Master is of a different sort, the things he'll do to you just to get all the information he can concerning Bernadine Hazel would be highly unpleasant."_

"_I've herd he's not particularly nice."_

"_He's not, Mr. Day…Not at all. He would greatly prefer not to be associated with Muggles in any way, or those he cannot sway to his control. The problem is what he'll do to your mind while extracting the information from it." Snape winced slightly at the thought. "I'm afraid there wont be much left of you afterward."_

_Well, I couldn't play dumb about it. Mentioning Hazel's name was enough to indicate he had the stolen files, or access to them. Since Voldemort also knew, it wouldn't do me too good to lie._

"_She's been known to get her way." I simply replied._

"_Except when dealing with you." Snape pointed out. "Using that fine Pinot Memnier in such a fashion was extremely wasteful, but I suppose rescuing the young Ms. Weasley was more paramount at that moment."_

_And it was. I also wanted to sit up, but couldn't do it because I was glued to the chair. Snape apparently wanted a captive audience._

"_I must admit," He went on, "that your tales of her were very…'colorful'…It has my Master worried."_

_Anyone would be worried with Hazel poaching on their territory. Possibly why all the weird activity that has been occurring in the Mundane World has slackened a bit, Harry's going to love hearing that…If I can tell him._

_Because now, Snape looks very distracted by what appears to be a sudden headache. Only it's something more._

"_No Wormtail…Keep looking." He mutters under his breath, through gritted teeth. "And stop whining about Nagi…You're lucky she doesn't attack you in spite!"_

"_I take it they're looking for me?"_

_Snape's headache vanishes, replaced by a cool smirk. "If you did exit through the back door, you would have run into them." He directly informs me. "It wouldn't have been a very pleasant meeting for you."_

_The turncoat wizard that all thought dead I could have handled. The serpent would have been more difficult, but doable. But I really wasn't in the mood to argue the facts with Snape._

"_I see…And you want?"_

"_I want you to deliver a message to Dumbledore's portrait in the Headmaster's Office at Hogwarts." He smiled. "Your escape from Malfoy's dungeon was a boon, I must say. There would be no questions raised as to why you couldn't be found afterward." _

_As I sit there putting the pieces together that there was something really odd occurring, he draws a small spiral-bound notebook, the very same you can buy in grocery stores anywhere, from the folds of his robes and sticks it into an inside pocket of my jacket while telling me what to do._

"_See Simon Say. Say that to the portrait before reading from the booklet…Now, you must hurry. Wormtail is a fool, but Nagi is much smarter than one would think—my not being outside would tell her that there is something going on."_

_My arms and legs return to functioning, and I can actually sit up. Snape stepped back, a gothic figure washed in fairylight, and looked down at me sternly. "You have your things, and what you took from Malfory and his servant—and ten minutes to get over the rise that lays directly in front of this place." He tells me. "Use Malfoy's wand to summon the Knight's Bus and his gold to use it…And—"_

_He hovered there, wanting to speak but caught by some sort of emotion that he finally pushed aside with a good deal of force._

"_Good luck." He rasped out, and then vanished._

_No explanations, no further details. It was all really wacked._

_But there was one fact I could and did latch onto…_

_I got the hell outta that place. This time, leaving through the front door._

5


	77. Chapter 77

Chapter Seventy-seven.

Filch never forgave, or forgot.

In McGonagall's office, he launched into a really long-winded argument not only for expelling Potter from Hogwarts but also imprisoning him at Azkaban for the 'attack' upon him. She sat through it all, listening politely, quietly. And when he was finally done, she simply said to him; "Filch, Mr. Potter may have saved your life."

"Save me' life?" Filch recoiled with a disbelieving sneer. "That would be the day, with 'em and his mates always plotting against me and Ms. Norris because I make 'em all adhere to the rules of the school—"

McGonagall's patience, usually quite lengthy even for a school teacher, was coming to an end with the whining caretaker. Harry could see it there on her face, and would have made him smile if his mind wasn't on Hermione. As he ran towards her, to stop her, an Auror quickly hit her with a stunning spell. Then others began arriving, more Aurors, Doc—even McGonagall herself, looking especially mournful at Hermione's sprawled figure. But Filch wouldn't stop—he was completely oblivious to what just occurred. Seeing the Headmistress, Fitch took advantage of the situation and made his claims loudly against Harry. And in turn, she ordered them both to accompany her back to her office under guard.

It was a slick maneuver. Designed to get him out of the area and the way, Harry easily figured. Possibly Filch too, as he looked at it.

"Mister Filch." McGonagall interrupted, her voice straining with irritation. "I assure you the matter will be looked into. But, I will tell you now, do not expect the outcome that you desire."

"But!" Filch sharply whined. "_He assaulted me! Those Aurors standin' in the Hall can tell you that!"_

McGonagall, when angered, was not a pleasant sight. Harry was just glad that stare of hers was directed at Filch at that moment.

_"That is quite enough, Argus!" _ McGonagall angrily raised her voice, making Filch wilt and Mrs. Norris start clawing her way out of his arms. Even Harry took a step back, now really thankful it wasn't directed at him.

"I will consider the matter from your perspective." She glared at him. "But I still consider what occurred to have been an accident—_ and nothing more! _Now, I wish to speak with Mr. Potter…Alone."

Filch left, but reluctantly. Muttering under his breath about 'Chains', and readying that portion of the Dungeon, while holding Mrs. Norris close. He wasn't about to take such a brow--beating in front of any student he so openly despised, just as he wasn't about to tempt a superior's anger any further.

And just after he left, McGonagall fitfully sighed; "It's understandable…why he behaves that way…But I wish he wouldn't go out of his way to be so antagonistic."

One last shutter of anger went through her before turning to Harry with the color drained from her face. "Ms. Granger will be held separate from the Advanced Class." She sadly told him. "It's being done to insure she isn't a danger to anyone here…I do not know how long that would be." She finished, just as Harry was about to ask.

Harry wasn't too surprised, but he was angry with it. Hermione wasn't a monster like Voldermort; she needed help returning to that caring person she once was…

That's when the ideal came into his head.

"Could I, Ron, or any of the others be able to visit with her?"

It was a shot, and he so hoped it would pay off. McGonagall however met his hopeful look with clear apprehension.

"I don't know, Harry…I honestly don't know. The Ministry has set the rules in this case. It's completely out of my hands."

Harry was simply astonished.

The Infirmary was closed off, or so the Aurors guarding the enterance indicated with scowling faces and wands ready in their hands, ready to use on anybody—even Harry—if any trouble occurred. But if they were hoping to prevent what was going on inside the Infirmary a secret, they failed horribly as the arguing within could be easily herd outside.

"And what makes you think she'll be safer in London?" Madame Pomfrey loudly questioned. "Seeing that the Dark One's minions can still come and go freely as they wish, in spite your best efforts in 'preventing' that from occurring."

Harry tried angling for a better view from the doorway, but` was pushed back.

"If you want to study her, fine." Doc now could be herd. "But taking her away to isolation would be disastrous!"

"Her 'unusual condition'," claimed a voice Harry believed he herd before, "warrants' this measure be taken for the safety of the Wizarding World!"

Pomfrey snorted loudly in disgust, and Doc then asked, "How then do you intend to perform your 'examinations' when she already considers you a threat?"

"That is not your concern, Doctor!"

And Harry placed the voice; the short, overly officious Ministry official with the whinny voice that openly doubted Wandless magic, even after being humiliated before the entire school by Day's use of that self-same magic…Before Hermione made them all hover in the air.

"This is a matter that only the Ministry is capable of handling!" The whiny official proclaimed. "So, stand out of our way! I command it!"

And Harry knew how they'd handle it; quite possibly like everything else they've handled lately—thoughally bungled. But this time was quite different. His friend was in there, and most likely be treated cruelly without any concern or respect by these so called 'experts'. He had to act. He had to save her.

Facing off against several Aurors with wands ready wasn't good. Even with Wandless magic, which he wasn't too good at, there'd be enough of then stranding to easily take him down. But there were other ways of dealing with such a situation, especially when facing against multiple enemies—or so Sky had demonstrated in the Evades ion Class…

There were no large barrels, or boxes, or people to start fights with…

So Harry yelled. And very loudly too.

6


	78. Chapter 78

Chapter Seventy-eight.

Damn, Harry," Doc swore, "you sounded like a Banshee in heat out there."

Harry simply took it in stride. His yell, or scream—which was more like it-- disrupted the argument in the Infirmary bringing most of its participants out into the Hall, namely Madame Pomfrey who took one look at those ganged up around Harry and loudly demanded and explanation from them. While that was occurring, there was only Doc and three Ministry officials, including the narrow-minded one with the whiny voice, still inside the Infirmary. They saw a chance during the incident to proceed with their plans, but made the arrogant mistake of trying to subdue Doc by surprise.

Apparently they didn't both reading the information on the Americans. Doc was simply a hair too fast when they tried, flattening the whinny-voiced one by landing the barrel of his magnum revolver firmly against the side of the Official's head, which he then used to hold the other two off with the help of his _Angel of Wraith _as they tried counter attacking with Hexes and Jinxes until Pomfrey returned with other Aurors in tow. But the resulting noises also managed to reach those in the Great Hall, in the numerous classrooms, and eventually McGonagall's office.

She really didn't look too pleased arriving. There was no proper word Harry could use to describe how angry she was, or to whom it was directed at more; at him for apparently causing the incident, or at the Officials for willfully attacking Doc…But there were other matters to concern him at the present moment.

Ron gazed with sick worry over Hermione's sleeping form, so did his Mother from the other side of the bed. They were in a small narrow room, with dull steel walls and very few trappings beyond the bed that Hermione lay upon. It was adjacent to the central control station of Doc's Tardis, a 'Containment Room' he called it, a place where Hermione could be kept for the time being in a magically induced sleep until something could be figured out for her.

Which judging by Doc's expression as he stood before the bed wasn't very good.

"What Umbridge did to her was beyond inexcusable." Doc frowned. "The damage has been physically repaired, everything's grown back to the way it was—"

"But there are…some things missing?" Mrs. Weasley, standing to his left, worriedly asked while wringing her hands.

Doc just sighed. "I only deal with physical and magical afflictions. Mental is beyond me at this point. The best that I can suggest is for her to return to the Institute, before the Ministry can get their hands on her."

Ron suddenly snapped his attentions towards Doc, with a very angry look on his face. "But what happened to her was _Magical_, you Git!" he angrily let fly. "Umbridge did it with her Imperious Curse!"

"And your girlfriend fought back against it, and quite a battle it was!" Doc quickly countered, while Mrs. Weasley behind him gazed angrily at her son. "That's why a good quarter of her brain got fried. Nor would it surprise me if Umbridge forced a portion of her will into her mind, which maybe causing all of this in the first place!"

Mrs. Weasley let out a horrified gasp, as her son simply looked at him with shock…Before turning to Harry standing reluctantly next to him.

There was no need for any speaking; Harry knew why Ron turned to him at that moment, the scar was still there in the middle of his forehead—testament of the validity of Doc's statement. While Umbridge didn't seek to kill Hermione, there was that possibility that to control her she had to forcefully impose her will upon her. And if so, Harry then realized, Hermione would not be responsible for her actions…

Ron just looked sick, while his mother gazed sadly at him.

All that is for certain is that she cannot stay here." Doc continued. "She might be able to fight off the sleep spell in time. And I'd rather people who are more proficient handle this."

Harry wanted to say something, but really didn't know what and ended up standing there with his mouth open while looking pathetic. But it was Ron who garnered the most concern, as he looked completely lost and desperate gazing at Hermione. Anyone witness to their almost constant quarreling and stand-offish behavior towards each other through the years, as Harry had, wouldn't have ever dreamed they could ever become a close couple.

Not even Harry himself…And he was surprised more than anyone.

Now it appeared it was all going to end in the saddest way possible, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"We know you've done everything possible, Doctor." Mrs. Weasley sincerely told Doc. "We'll leave you to attend to matters."

Even Harry reluctantly started moving towards the door, passing around the outside of his friend…

"Can…I stay with her?" Ron suddenly, hesitantly, spoke up.

Even Harry was shocked, and Ron's Mother was about to say a definite 'No' to it when Doc stopped her with a gesture of his hand.

"I don't see why not." He smiled. "Seeing a friendly face, should she wake up, would help put her at ease."

But Mrs. Weasley didn't think too much of the ideal. Her face became red as she started taking in the breath she intended to loudly expel when Dolly burst into the room, yelling; _"Darren! Jay's been hurt!"_

5


	79. Chapter 79

Chapter Seventy-nine.

_The Knight Bus…_

_Harry told me all about it; this purple-colored Routemaster double-decker bus, that can be summoned by any Magical who holds their wand into the air in a gesture of summoning. Very nice, very convenient when the broom's on the mend. A Routemaster is a common to England as Cadillac's are in America, so there's no threat of exposure to the Mundanes._

'_Cept I really should have listened to Harry more on this matter. Especially concerning what it's like to be inside the Knight's Bus while it's moving, which was very much like being the metal ball in a wild pinball machine. It was my fault, by dropping the money bag in the driver's lap upon boarding while telling him to 'hurry it' to Hogwarts. That's never something you want to do with the Driver of that Bus, because I never reached my seat before suddenly finding myself thrown off my feet for the entire length of the bus then bounced up and down along its interior. _

_After a few stops, it felt like I'd been womped on by Tyson. And I wasn't the only one who was suffering._

"_You learn…To become accustomed…To it." Remarked one disembarking 'rider', a sick-looking short wizard with glassy eyes gripping his stout umbrella for balance while slowly putting on his bowler hat. He managed to step fully out of the bus before the doors closed with a 'Bang!', so I couldn't tell if he tumbled over as he appeared ready to._

_Then it was my turn._

_I tried keeping brave, walking tall while coming off that ride with aches, pains, and stomach turning all a riot. But the legs went rubbery, and with nothing to hold onto once off the Bus, I performed a brilliant face-first splashdown into the mud before several students and Aurors._

_Wonderful. At least they were understanding while dragging me up to the Infirmary with as little laughter as possible, where I was pumped up with several hot cups of Potion (or Coffee, it did taste like Coffee) while others haggled over weather I was alright or not before Doc gave his blessing to drag me off to McGonagall's Office so I could tell my tale. _

_Quite a crowd, hanging on my every word, especially Dumbledore's portrait. He was especially interested in my 'meeting' with Snape, especially the way his eyes would gleam and twinkle as the corners of his mouth raised while everyone else in the room, especially those who knew the Potions Master, reacted with predictable disbelief at the end of my story. _

_Naturally, Snape had been trusted. Then he kills Dumbledore, an act that set anyone against him._

"_He let yer go—just like that?" Hagrid gazed in angry disbelief at me, while everyone else was simply dumbstruck. "Just let yer go?"_

"_Well", I started to explain, "He wanted to stay longer. But he was wanted by Wormtail, and didn't want to raise any suspicion."_

_Hagrid was still pretty much touch and go concerning me as an ally. And that look on his bearded face was usually what one would have if they intended to kill somebody in a fit of anger. Since it was directed at me, I was wondering if somebody there would try stopping him if he lunged. Maybe Sky or Doc together could block with their Stands', though the room would be demolished in the process._

_Then, Dumbledore's portrait spoke up; "You mentioned a notebook, Mr. Day…Do you still have it by chance?" _

3


	80. Chapter 80

Chapter Eighty.

_The notebook was slightly damp from my fall into the mud, but otherwise still usable—and readable. Snape picked a good deep pocket to stick it in before he left me alone. _

_ I showed it to everyone, distracting them from wondering what Dumbledore had in plan. But that was very short lived._

_ "Did Snape tell you anything more…specific?" He then asked._

_ I was hesitant, since I hate being in the middle of an ill-defined mystery that's barely understandable. And I also hate being the subject of numerous quizzical stares, focused upon me as I sat there. Especially Dumbledore's._

_ "See Simon Says." I quoted Snape exactly. It had to be a code of some kind, perhaps a trigger for a spell. But the only thing that occurred was more puzzled looks, except for Dumbledore who just nodded._

_ "'See' as in 'Sight', or as in Ocean?" he then asked._

_ That question hade me confused. "He wasn't specific." I answered, wishing there was more to it while wondering what Dumbledore's game was. He regarded my answer in silence as the seconds ticked away to wherever they went once spent. Tension was rising in the room with the silence. I don't think the portrait was milking it for any egotistical reason. Harry never indicated such. Secretive, yes, but not the sake of wanting credit for everything that occurred._

_ "I see." Dumbledore finally broke the silence. "Please open the book and read aloud what it contains."_

_ He said it with conviction and triumph, quite possibly assured that there was nothing to be worried about if the book was read in the way he commanded. And I sat there reading all fifty pages of it, containing names and addresses written with an expert hand using a fine pointed pen. _

_ When finished, there was Dumbledore beaming proudly with triumph._

_ "The names and address of the Dark Lord's Confederates." He proudly trumpeted. "We may see an end to this at last!"_

_ That was good news…_

_Hell, it was great news. Finally there was a light seen at the end of this long dark tunnel we were all in. Once I passed the notebook on to McGonagall, a flood of pleasant euphoria came over me. _

_But as the others filed out of the office in the same manner, Dumbledore's Portrait made a very unusual request of me…_

"_Mr. Day. Would you please stay a few minutes?"_

_I stepped back from the door. McGonagall had a puzzled look on her face, which really went haywire when the Portrait told her that he wanted to speak with me alone._

_In fact, both of us were pretty floored by the request._

"_Please." The Portrait insisted. "Only for a few minutes."_

_I had no clue, and shrugged when she looked at me._

"_Alright." She hesitantly said, and left the room._

_Once the door closed, Dumbledore turned to me with a very urgent manner. "I haven't much time, and none closest to me wouldn't believe a word of what I'm about to say to you."_

_Well, I wasn't exactly on base standing there wondering just what in the devil Dumbledore was getting at. But I will say, he didn't waste anytime getting to the point about it._

"_Semus Snape," he began. "Is my agent…And has been, even after my death." _

4


	81. Chapter 81

Chapter Eighty-one.

_"I apologize if the news startles you. But his actions, every action he has taken since the beginning of this affair, has been at my direction—not Voldermort's."_

_ The Portrait said those words in a very direct, very matter of fact manner that left no doubt. Even so, I was still knocked pretty much for a loop by the revelation. Questions danced in my head; 'Why me?', 'Why now?' But they never reached my mouth._

_ "Have you told Harry this?" I asked instead._

_ The Portrait winced. Not exactly a matter which was spoken of, and when his face relaxed Dumbledore looked downcast. "No." it began. "Harry doesn't know, nor will the others until after this whole matter is finally settled and done. I cannot take the risk of having any of them fall into Voldermort's hands knowing such things."_

_ "But what about me?" I asked. "I now know, because you've told me."_

_ The Portrait nodded. "I need both a confident and special agent. I apologize again for startling you a second time, Mr. Day. But surely even you must understand the amount of secrecy I must maintain in this."_

_ Even dead, he was fit to explode. That's the problem with being human, or a facsimile of one, the urge to share is quite strong—especially among allies. But this whole matter was played extremely close to his chest. And with the source of information just delivered, the secret of Snape stood a chance at becoming unraveled by all involved._

_ But Dumbledore just sadly shook his head. _

_ "He wouldn't have passed that information along unless he realized his position, his real position, was becoming perilous." He sadly replied. "He took great risks to gather and deliver that information, and I hope he hasn't been uncovered yet. But that act he undertook in giving you the information may as well have been his last."_

_ I tried getting it out of my mind, or at least push it into some dark corner where I couldn't dwell on it so much. Having plenty to do helped a great deal, such as midterm exams slated for the Twenty-fourth. Normally, students would have been long gone on Christmas Vacation by then. But with things, everybody was staying—and it was decided to make the Advance Class work right up until Christmas Eve._

_ I had no place to go, really. Nor could when it came right down to it._

_ Doc's Tardis, especially the Mirror Hall and all other Mirror Gates, were under close guard with only specific trips allowed—that from Bone and McGonagall. Nobody was arguing though. Like me they preoccupied themselves with things; dealing with homesick students and those running rampant in the halls (I really felt sorry for Filch, about as effective as a traffic cop trying to keep order in the middle of a disaster—but still keeping at it none the less). _

_Fred was now up to moving his legs at the knees, not very much but a considerable improvement from the start of term. George's behavior perked up at that, coinciding with prank gifts that somehow made their way into the Slytherin Dungeon by way to two not so very bright students who then came howling out of their House with the other Slytherin students followed by what had to have been the most awful smell ever smelt in the history of Hogwarts. Naturally, suspicion fell on George. But Crabbe and Goyle were simply too embarrassed and humiliated to even speak up on the matter, though word from Harry indicated that George wasn't at all aversive towards taking credit for the caper; all smiles and roguish behavior like he used to be. _

_But salted amongst the snowball fights and the Christmas preparations, news of the outside world did filter in, dragging that knowledge Dumbledore's Portrait imparted to me out of where I'd stashed it away…_

_News of numerous, and successful, strikes against Voldermort's Followers began creeping up from the depths by word of mouth. Students, Instructors, even some Aurors and a couple of visiting low-level Ministry officials who had become unofficial couriers that shuttled themselves between London and here by Mirrorgate, all spreading the news in squealing whispers that sound like air coming out of a balloon as it deflates. On one hand I couldn't really blame them; living under such doom and gloom for so long then suddenly experiencing warmth and sunshine in one much unexpected moment would make even Sky giddy beyond belief._

_But on the other had, loose lips sink ships. By now Voldermort had to be wondering what was going on with his vast network. And given his character, figuring out he had a spy in his midst wouldn't be too difficult a challenge for him. Hopefully Snape was as good as Dumbledore claimed at shielding his mind to prevent the truth from coming out. It was two days before Christmas when reality came banging on my door._

_That morning started with the receiving of the Daily Prophet that had blazing across its front; DARK LORD CRIPPLED!!!_

_And from there, everything went to hell._

"_Sources close to 'special' Ministry members, have reported that numerous raids upon identified supporters of HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED have resulted in crippling HIS power throughout the Country." McGonagall read to those of us crammed into her office before morning tea was served in the Teacher's Lunchroom. "Numerous members of promenade families, business owners, and even common people, have been rounded up and arrested for supporting HIM. And these arrests have lead to even more arrests throughout the entire Wizarding Community, leading to the confiscation of supplies and the discovery of several hiding places containing numerous Black Magical items._

"_We've got that Bastard on the run, I'm proud to say." So smiled Mangus Dungan of the Ministry's Anti-Dark Forces Directorate. "Pretty soon, there won't be a place for him, and those cowardly rats who worship him, to hide in this country at least."_

_Tall words, typical of a politician or one with political aspirations. I myself would prefer to crow once Voldermort was bagged and tagged, because such preemptive action always leaves me feeling very uneasy…Like an invitation to disaster._

_Sure enough, on Christmas Eve, things took a turn…_

_The cars hadn't seen snow before. Granted, we get frost in Fresno. But snow's a rarity, a chance happening…well, it doesn't get cold enough—and that is that. Anyway, it was fun to see them sliding around in the slush out on the common while dodging the wild hail of thrown snowballs (not very successfully, I may add) by students from numerous snow forts—supervised of course by House Heads under the watchful eyes of Aurors. Sky and I were out there as well, wearing heavy coats to protect us from the chill, keeping special attention upon our metal minions of ours, when he turned to me and asked; "Do you think we're out of this yet?"_

"_Not by a long shot." I replied, lighting up a cigarette._

_He snorted, "My opinion exactly…I've got that feelin' crawlin' up the back of my neck."_

_I snapped the lighter closed and had it back in my warm pocket before the cold could harm my fingers. I like my fingers; I trust them as much as I trust Sky. And what he said only reinforced what I felt. Could there be something watching us from the Forbidden Forest? Or perhaps as we were standing there, Death Eaters were tunneling beneath the snow mounts all around us. Weighing our reaction time to such a surprise attack didn't give any of us good odds of survival, Wandless magic or not. Sky and I were known, and would be the first to get wacked on just cause._

_There were better things to think about, I know. Still, I kept my eyes roaming around. Nothing like the fear of death to keep you on your toes._

"_But still," Sky added, "I reckon we would have been pulled into to this in some other way."_

_He said that with a firmly set jaw and frown, he resolved look. Once he's that way, there's no turning back for him. _

"_So, what's your plans?" he then asked. _

_I really wanted to say, "To hide in the deepest hole I could find, and wait for all to blow over." But he'd rudely snort and glare at me. Being glared at by Sky is not a wonderful experience. So with an inhaling of warm tobacco smoke, I began instead with; "Keep my ears to the ground, my eyes constantly open, and anything I can use to fight with close at hand."_

"_Ha! You'd run for the hills if you could!" he mocks me. "Fightin' was never your style!"_

_He really knows how to push my buttons, and the urge to push a few of his started growing with in when I spotted movement off to the far left. I wasn't seeing things; three of the Aurors noticed it as well and went into action. Things after that went into high gear; the Aurors didn't need to shout twice to warn the students, and the students didn't stand around trying to see what was going on. Instantly, they went for cover where it could be found, mostly behind their snow forts, those close enough ducked and rolled behind the cars once they slid to a halt. Everybody had their wands out, pointed in every direction possible._

_Harry had Ginny behind Tamm. Sky and I dove behind Antichrist, while George and another made extra usage of Dancing Queen's doors as shields in the exact manner as taught in the Danger Room. If they had guns instead of wands, the scene would have been exactly from the Police Training Manual. Aurors were scrambling around as well, some of them joining us behind the cars while others out at the snow forts._

_And there were those brave souls who went out there to confront whoever it was._

_Sky and I had our guns, but it was too far for a shot to actually hit—magically or not. The Cars had their weaponry out, and Harry was trying to get a look at the passenger side door mirror. It's a nice trick. That mirror gives a view of what Tamm is aiming at. All Harry had to do was to make sure he didn't poke his head up too high so not to get hit._

_But he got hit. Just not in the way that was feared._

_His eyes grew very wide and surprised by what he saw. The Aurors around him too gazed with surprise…_

_Harry though took it one step further…_

"_Draco Malfoy!" He exclaimed._

7


	82. Chapter 82

Chapter Eighty-two.

_ Draco Malfoy is the product of his parents, mostly his Father._

_ He is a rat, bully, bigot, slime-ball, scum, everything that would make the Mundanes of the World take up arms against the Magical Community. And as such is a very weak, insecure, and cowardly little boy—just like he is as he sits in the hardwood chair in the Dungeon Cell the Aurors placed him in wearing only his undergarments and socks. But Harry added a few extra things about this boy to me over the summer; especially when the opportunity to kill Dumbledore as he laid helpless before him with three Death Eaters urging him on…_

_ He simply couldn't do it…It's what happens when reality finally makes its self known to the braggart, who constantly imagined themselves doing the impossible but when the opportunity presents itself its magnitude simply overwhelms them. They freeze and choke in typical fashion._

_ But his sudden return was very startling. Naturally, Hogwarts is buzzing over it. _

_ Students are currently confined to their Houses; this time with Aurors stationed within the Common Room while their counter parts roam the halls with wands out and spells on hold. I'm quite honestly afraid to sneeze around them now, figuring they'll jump and blast away on impulse. Not too terribly unlike those guarding Malfoy, whom I hear are just aching for him to try something sitting there. But he's too frightened to move, looking like he's ready to burst into tears at any moment._

_ Definitely not the Draco Malfoy Harry knew. _

_ "They're preparing a holding cell somewhere for him." McGonagall absently tossed out. "He won't be held at the Ministry, and definitely not held here."_

_ "Azkaban?" Moody suggested, but McGonagall wasn't sure or hinted at where she figured Draco would be sent. And from my perspective, quite frankly didn't care as long as he wasn't here. Her disgusted expression said it all._

_ But Harry was different. There was pity there, real genuine pity towards a former enemy. Others would have stood there with smug of absolute satisfaction, especially those who'd been bullied by him and his henchmen in the past. Some would have issued a very rude comment or two, and McGonagall probably wouldn't chasten them for their rudeness. But he wasn't that way standing there._

_ "I say we start questioning him now." Moody grumbled. "The sooner done, the sooner all this will be over."_

_ "You can be seriously thinking that he was close to…Him?" Mr. Weasley questioned. "I could see his parents, but I figured…He, wouldn't be bothered by some fawning child."_

_ "He was amongst them, and that is reason enough too." Moody angrily grumbled back. "Especially where they maybe hold up at. It would be insulting to—"_

_ "That's quite enough, Alistair." McGonagall cut in. "But you have good reasons, and I'll speak to Bone when he arrives about it."_

_ Weasley blinked with surprise while Moody nodded with a satisfied grunt towards a cool McGonagall. Harry didn't even flinch, even as he was nudged gently along by McGonagall as we left the dungeon area. Only when left to his own devices above ground, when we were alone in the corridors, did he even speak._

_ "They'll kill him." Harry quietly said. "They'll tear his mind and brain apart for answers…And what would be left would be just a shell, as if they sicked a Dementor on him."_

_ I quite honestly couldn't find anything to say about that. Of course, we're supposed to be civilized and decent. But we have used many horrible things, and justified them as 'nessicarry'._

_ "I don't know." I honestly answered. _

_Then I was hit by inspiration, "Let's take a walk outside. The air here isn't suitable for clear thinking."_

_Easier said than done. Because of Draco's visit, the entire school was locked down—and nobody was taking our standing amongst Wizards as reason to allow us to go outside. But there was that Observation Landing, the one where Harry witnessed Dumbledore's murder, the experts never thought to guard. Harry was quiet heading up those stone steps, and I wasn't about to egg him in anyway. Once up there, he stepped away to the far end never once turning around._

_And stayed quiet until he finally broke down._

"_Dumbledore tried…He tried convincing him to turn away…Right here…I don't know he could have saved his life, being as weak and helpless as he was…_

"_I was there, lying there…Where you're standing, hidden by the Invisibility Cloak he threw over me…Unable to move…Just watch."_

_It wasn't pretty standing there watching Harry slowly going to pieces, and just standing there unable to help. Draco Malfoy had a huge effect on Harry, as his introduction to just how 'alike' we are to Mundaines. Now like a lot of things, he was knocked for a loop._

"_Do you think I'd be allowed to speak with him?" he asked, turning around. He was desperate, but in control at that point. And with the ball in my court, it gave him time to calm down—a little—while I figured out something to say._

"_Do you think McGonagall would allow it? And if she does, you won't be alone in that room."_

_I wished that I had waited a little while longer before speaking. That came out like a scolding, which was the last thing I wanted to do to him. Harry looked grim for a few moments. What was going on in his mind wasn't something I'd guess at beyond mulling over my response._

_Then his face set into that look that could only be determination…_

"_I'm going to see him." He firmly said._

"_No! Absolutely not!" McGonagall's reaction was predictable. In fact the veins in her face stood out as she yelled. Because Harry wasn't going to back off from it._

"_You are too valuable, Mr. Potter. What if he tried attacking you? As I understand it, he certainly wanted you harmed while you both were students here."_

"_He's helpless, scared, and under guard." Harry defiantly countered. "Heavily under guard. And all he ever did was boast while Goyle and Crabbe were there to back him up."_

_I'm not exactly sure what flashed across McGonagall's mind after that. But her face became even redder, and the veins were really throbbing on both sides of her head. _

_If she didn't calm down, I'd swear she'd explode like a balloon—or something else would burst just as violently. But she wasn't going down despite her age, countering verbal blow for verbal blow from Harry until I had no choice but to step in—and right into the middle of it all too._

"_Look, can't we just speak about this in more civil tones instead of all this mindless ripping into each other?"_

_McGonagall's eyes really bulged out at that. "MISTER DAY! THIS MATTER IS NOT LIGHT AT ALL! I SIMPLY FORBID MR. POTTER FROM EVER GOING NEAR THAT BOY. AND THAT IS ALL!!!"_

"_But what could he do?" I tried keeping evenly. "There's no doubt his wand was confiscated, his clothing was turned inside-out, while he was still wearing them, by the Aurors, who left him a little decency."_

"_THAT IS NOT THE POINT!" she blasted back. If she were closer, I would have been knocked right on my back from the rush of wind. "THE POINT IS MR. POTTER'S SAFETY! I WOULD NOT DARE PUT HIM IN THAT DUNGEON, EVEN IF THERE WERE AN ENTIRE COMPANY OF HIT WIZARDS STANDING BETWEEN THEM!!! NO!! I ABSOLUTELY FORBID IT!!"_

"_I wouldn't have, Minerva."_

_The words were spoken in a gentle, wistful manner that hit with all the force of speeding freight train. Even I was shaken to the bone by them. That was Dumbledore's style; no need for extreme force when directness was all you needed._

"_But Albus." She started with a sniffle, and only got that far._

"_If I did not believe that there was an opportunity to change anything for the better, I would not do it." Dumbledore's portrait gently explained. "Minerva, this is a rarity; a second chance to redeem Draco Malfoy."_

"_Surely—"_

"_Minerva, we cannot let this chance slip through our fingers." He urged. "This boy is vital, too vital to simply send away with scorn…Learn to forgive him, there is capacity for good!"_

"_He couldn't bring himself…to kill you." Harry then said, really making McGonagall jump. As she gazed from Harry to me in a lost daze, the portrait smiled sincerely at him. _

"_Even with the most cold-blooded Death Eaters rallying him on, he could not. And that, dear Harry is the difference between our dreams and reality—realization, he simply could not do it."_

_Harry simply nodded slowly with eyes fixed upon the Portrait._

"_I can go with him, if you'd like." I offered. It was odd, and impulsive._

_McGonagall simply looked at me after I said that._

"_Minerva." The portrait asked, "Are you in agreement with that?" _

7


	83. Chapter 83

Chapter Eighty-three.

Harry didn't much have a plan or complete ideal as he was escorted down to the Dungeons, just a compulsion to speak to the person who showed him that the Magical World wasn't much different than the Muggle one. Pettiness, bias, cruel attitudes and outright cruelty shattered the misconceptions that he once held in his dreams that day while he was being fitted for his first wizarding robes. Draco Malfoy was all of it rolled up in the embodiment of a handsome boy, now seated before him regarding both Harry and the Aurors around him with frightened glances.

Day had promised to wait outside in the corridor. McGonagall was there with him. Because this Harry knew he had to do alone…

"Would you mind explaining yourself?" Harry officiously, but in low tones to his once adversary.

It seemed like minutes before Draco could speak…The words spilling nervously from his mouth because he was forcing them out.

"I…have information…I know…where the Dark Lord is."

Harry carefully considered what he was told. The Aurors surrounding Draco remained cool and indifferent. Harry knew he'd get nothing from them indicating how they felt on the matter, and turned back to Draco.

"Did he send you out?" Harry asked. "Or did you come out on your own?"

Draco looked fearful. "No, I fled after…After…After he killed my parents…"

Then the tears flowed as the face that once sneered, scoffed and readily launched insult after cruel insult folded up into a shaking mass of tears and sobbing that easily revealed the braggart as nothing more than a small, fearful child. Harry knew what he could and couldn't do there; he had to remain impassive before his former adversary, show no compassion or weakness—just remain neutral. Dumbledore wouldn't have, but his abilities came from years and years of experience. Harry had none, except what he was told.

"They failed him…"Draco sobbed on. "He…He…killed them with their…own wands, while the others…looked on…laughing."

Harry could easily imagine that, remembering Voldermort's rebirth. He pushed the images away, focusing on what was important.

"If you ran away, Draco, there is every good reason that Voldermort knows and has moved on." Harry evenly said. "So anything you have—"

"There is a list of houses!" Draco suddenly cried out. "Several of his…closest have given him shelter, and our prepared to do so again! Mother gave it to me…when they brought Father back…"

"Was this list with you?" Harry asked.

"You took it." Draco sniveled as he shrank back. "With my clothes."

Harry slowly nodded, "A special list?"

"Only my Parents knew about it." Draco calmed down a little between the tears. "Father made it…without the Lord knowing."

Harry had to distance himself from that, giving the fact that Lucius Malfoy was one of the first to claim he was under a spell cast by Voldermort when the Dark Lord first fell. Hearing that he composed a list of where the Dark Lord could flee to was quite fascinating. Perhaps, as Harry mused, Lucius Malfoy was once again planning for the Dark Lord's fall…

"Apparently he discovered its existence as well." Harry casually remarked. "Voldermort hates descent with in his ranks."

Draco winced at the name. Yes, Harry reflected, it was terribly mean of me to say it…

But he didn't want to appear weak, even now.

"So," he firmly added, "you came here seeking help, hoping that you could buy it with that book and what knowledge there is in your head…Am I right?"

Draco face wavered from sick fear and anger at that, and Harry narrowed his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. "For someone so willingly to follow such an evilly powerful person, what makes you believe we can keep you safe, Draco?" he directly asked his former tormentor.

Now the fear was taking over Draco, the fear that all was hopeless—unless _he did something about it. _And it didn't take long for that to happen.

"He…he placed me under an _Unbreakable Oath…_To kill Dumbledore…I failed…So Snape had to do it…" Draco swallowed back tears and sniffles, but both persisted and ran from his eyes and nose as he continued. "I'm still…under it…I want…to be free of it…"

When he turned his pleading eyes upon him, Harry nearly lost it. Dumbledore would have embraced Draco, comfort Draco, even offer friendship to Draco. Harry was willing to do all that, but there was something within that told him _wait!_ He wasn't ready, it wasn't _time. _And that's how Dumbledore did things…In time.

"It's possible." Harry slowly nodded, not really sure if Unbreakable Oaths could be broken safely, he was simply acting to keep Draco under control. "But I'll warn you, Draco, it's not an easy thing to do—even for an highly experienced wizard. So I'll ask you now; for the removal of that Oath…How far would you be willing to go?"

4


	84. Chapter 84

Chapter Eighty-four.

_Draco, apparently, wanted to go all the way._

_ It took several scribes and numerous Quick-quills just to jot down everything he told them; names, dates, locations of special residences, money, food, clothing and wizarding supplies—both with in the British Isles and on the European Continent as well._

_ The latter was suspect, and handed over to a small handful of junior Aurors' operating in those regions. But with in a day, the areas that Draco had indicated were largely proven true—giving rise that he had been telling the truth after all. By the third day, it was completely proven when a group sent to recover another stash of supplies in southern Ireland hamlet encountered several Death Eaters in a furious battle that required very available Obligator to make into a fight between two criminal gangs. That was soon followed by many other battles occurring here and there across the Isles, some involving a red headed woman in a very 'provocative' dress whose presence turned the table against the Aurors. Once those reports started circulating around, the Ministers on the Continent were prompted to act upon the information they were given…_

_ But it also caused another, very unpleasant action as well._

_ "They're not going to hesitate." Bone grimly spoke through the crystal sphere on McGonagall's desk. "They're establishing the Ley Lines for the Containment of the British Isles immediately. And nothing can be done to stop them, beyond stopping Voldermort; before they are finished…I am sorry."_

_ The mood in McGonagall's Office went south very, very fast. Only Voldermort going public with his Death Eaters, and right in the middle of the Holiday season, could have made matters worse. The exposure of the Magical World to the Mundane was the worst fear any could face; the fear of the mindless sheep who'd follow anyone on just cause and the greed of the powerful in their high towers. And now, it will be worse, because containment will mean exactly that CONTAINMENT with NO ONE coming in or out—magical or otherwise. And how's that for an introduction to the World…_

_ Talk about compounding the matter. _

_ "I'm certain you did all you could do. Ambassador." McGonagall resolvedly, carefully responding. "How much time is left before this plan goes into motion?"_

_ "They're moving rapidly. Maybe a week, a week and a half…Reports aren't the most reliable, and my people are doing there best to track down the truth."_

_ McGonagall glanced at me, Dawson, Hagrid and Moody all standing around her desk in a half-circle. There was no mistaking what she felt at that moment, because all of us had that same desperately sick feeling of being rendered helpless with victory was just within reach. Could we move faster, could Draco have forgotten some bit of information, could we find Voldermort before Containment went into effect?_

_ Could. Could. Could. The possibilities spun my head, stopping only when the door to the Office was suddenly flung open by a very excited Mr. Weasley. Usually the man was both courteous and neat, as he possibly could be, but in this case he was wild-eyed with excitement._

_ "They found him!" he wildly proclaimed. "They've found the Dark Lord!!"_

_ Not exactly…_

_ There was that ever nagging matter of proper identification, but where was very hopeful; it was a small château in the northern magical reaches of Scotland, near the coast, owned by the Nott family through another family that married into their line. Once again, the Ministry failed. It was only through the diligence of a few retired Aurors', searching through records for further clues, that such marital connections were discovered. It wasn't great news, but better than what Bone gave._

_ But he did give us his blessing; "Don't wait for me—check this out!"_

_ The weather was particularly bad up there, worse than in recent years with an Artic cold front that simply rose up from out of no where that violently walloped the whole region with snow and freezing rain. Roads were nearly impassable, traffic was forced to move at crawl over frozen roads lead by police vehicles that slid around as badly as the semi's did—and we were in the middle of it all. Great timing and a wonderful convenience, no wonder Moody suspected magical interference was occurring. _

_ It was well past midnight when we rolled into the Ministry Satellite Office in Aberdeen a cold and miserable mess. Dawson and Mr. Weasley dealt with the Office Supervisor, who had waited patiently for us all day and most of the night, while Moody and I made do with what passed for a pub there; a small boxy room with some tables and a small bar, much like a mini restaurant or small food court at K-Mart. The Office really wasn't all that big, occupying a decrepit three floor building near the harbor, even with all of the engorgement charms in place. They had a small atrium made up to be like a park in spring, but it was all wrought-iron and ironwood paneling—no gleaming glass and brass as in London. _

_ "There really isn't much up here." Moody explained between bites of hot kippers and scones downed with Hot Chocolate. "Most who work here have been cycled up from London as embarrassments, or are natives hoping to go to London."_

_ The food wasn't too bad. Yes it could have been better with a lot less grease and more flour, but if that's how they liked it up here then fine by me. I wasn't in Fresno, and there were no mini-marts near-by. There were a few bottles of Doc's antacid mix in Tamm's glove box that I could get if the food tried coming back on me. Moody and I had finished out portions when a very hurried Mr. Weasley found us._

_ "Walker," he hurriedly said, "the Bureau Head here, already has the residence surrounded. And word has been received…HE'S been spotted there!"_

_ For a man as hacked up as he was. Moody could move faster than I can from a dead start. Hell, he even paid for the meal simply by tossing his coin purse onto the counter while heading for the door. _

_ Walker was a rail thin man, with very pale skin. Not exactly a ghost, yet._

_ But he was animated as we rode with him up to the Nott's property in his personal car._

_ "As soon as we received word from London about the possibility, I had everyone from Aurors' to office clerks going all over the countryside seeking out the properties." He giddily told us. "We found a few, but the Nott property, which had been abandoned for some time, was showing signs of renewed activity."_

_ Both Dawson and Weasley were listing aptly, and I was giving it attention to but Moody wasn't at all impressed sitting there scowling out the window. Tamm was behind us, as I had ordered. She wasn't about to stay, and I wasn't about to order her to. Just seeing her there was a welcome sight._

_ "But…HIM…Has HE actually been seen on the premises?" Dawson kept pestering Walker when he could. It seems Moody was right; all Walker was doing was inflating his own importance in the matter—probably hoping to return to the comforts of London with this._

_ "Yes, HE's been spotted." Walker would reply. "Pictures were taken and compared to the Chosen One's descriptions…Will he be coming soon?"_

_ "No." Moody growled. "Too dangerous."_

_ Walker looked offended at that. "But he's suppose to—"_

_ "I never had much faith in predictions." Moody grumbled back. "Herd too many of them in my time."_

_ "But the boy has the Mark!" Walker exclaimed back. "Surely, he should be along with you—or be prepared to duel…HIM."_

_ Moody didn't really turn away from the window, but that didn't mean he was ignoring Walker. With that eye of his, he really didn't need to._

_ "What if HE's not really there, Mr. Walker. What if it's all a hoax?" he easily grumbled. "And before you start again, let me remind you of the many ways such a feat can be done."_

_ And he listed each and every one._

6


	85. Chapter 85

Chapter Eighty-five.

_The convenience of having Magical lands unchartered lies in the fact that one can simply build what they want, as decided by whim and magical ability. Besides, we don't need any government officials trying to hit us with building permits, taxes, and other forms of bureaucratic red tape._

_ The Nott residence was a stylishly jumble combination of towering cylinders and squat rectangles only two floors high, arranged as a small medieval castle complete with battlements and scowling guards in black robes. Tamm displayed it all for us without magical enhancements. All it needed was ivy growing along its tall stone walls, but up here the cold would prevent that from happening._

_ That's why a lot of us were huddled in the cars a good five miles away from the place; Northern Scotland's pretty brisk this time of year especially at night. I just hope the car's heaters didn't give us away._

_ "Well, "grumbled Moody "it looks like a Death Eater stronghold." He was outside Tamm, bundled against the cold in his greatcoat next to my door, frowning towards the place. The snap of a twig being stepped on by a careless runner from another car jolted our attention and made Moody wince while turning in the direction. _

_ "You idiot!" he snarled as loudly as he dared. "Don't you know they can hear that all the way there!"_

_ Probably not. But one didn't take chances with Dark magic, and one shouldn't._

_ The person who raised Moody's ire was a simple clerk that had been pressed into this service, and hardly dressed for the weather in his long wool coat and simple leather shoes._

_ "Sorry, sir." The man hurriedly apologized. "I'll be careful the next time."_

_ "You'll be dead the next time! Now why are you here?"_

_ The man swallowed, then uttered, "Word has come from those on the beach below. A boat is being prepared with supplies, and it's believed that it'll be used as a means of escape."_

_ Moody went especially grim, and hardly surprising. With things closing in all around, it would be prudent to make a break for it and gather strength—especially with Hazel making such endows into his territory._

_ "Was he or any of his top supporters seen around this boat?" Moody grimly asked._

_ "Macnair and Nott himself." The clerk gulped. Macnair was especially nasty, threatening people with that ax of his."_

_ Well, if it was good enough for Moody it was good enough for the rest of us._

_ There were a few good wizards with us capable of setting up an area of containment that would catch any who tried teleporting away from the area, but it cost us half our groups' strength. But then, Tamm could make up for that with firepower alone—especially if there were any nasty magical beats about. That left about fifteen of us to deal with what was inside the house, mostly never have seen combat, and time was wasting…_

_ Oh well…_

_ With Tamm in the lead, without headlights, we hit the iron gate at such high speed it was ripped from its posts and didn't hit the ground until we'd smashed down the main doors to the house. There were Death eaters in the main foyer, and several more spilling out from rooms on the upper stairwell. Tamm blasted most of them before they could even get a spell off, but more came out from their hiding places in the rapidly escalating confusion._

_It was time to do more than just shoot back. As a lot of us were getting creamed…_

_Finding a fairly sturdy wall to hide behind, I began conjuring up what I like to call a 'Whammy'—a massive area effect spell that literally throws those hit with it into confusion. The problem with it is that it takes a while to power up, not very good at a time like this. _

_But when ready, I let it loose…_

_There wasn't any part of that house or surrounding area that wasn't affected by it, except from where I stood and back. Once the dust cleared the rubble stopped falling, those that were left, with the exception of me because I was too drained to move after launching it, stood up with expressions of dazed amazement on their faces. Fortunately, some of us were too knocked back to quickly stun them down, while dodging falling portions of House._

"_That," Moody loudly proclaimed, "was sheer recklessness!"_

"_Oh shut up!" someone admonished. "It helped us win."_

_Winning. _

_Well, I guess that was right. I certainly didn't feeling like loosing, which would have meant dying—so there._

_But man, what a mess. The entire backside of the house was blown completely out to the beach, and upon those out there and their boat, which I honestly didn't plan on doing when I did it. Not a pretty mess, as Mr. Weasley described it, but the boat was clobbered just like the plans of those who intended to use it…_

_Especially, Voldermort. But where was he in all of this mess? The person, who made that identification, the resident Librarian, swore up and down, even sideways, that he did see the Dark Lord through his…whatever passes for binoculars here. I was simply too tired to care. So as they bickered and searched, I was in Tamm enjoying a much needed cigarette. Not exactly the best victory celebration, but I really wasn't in the mood for dancing at the time…_

_I just wanted to close my eyes…And dream of home…_

_Then something slammed into Tamm that ruined all of that; Moody._

"_COME ON!" he franticly yelled as I sat there trying to get my mind untangled. "WE'VE BEEN TRICKED!!" _

5


	86. Chapter 86

Chapter Eighty-six

There was a place where he liked to go, out at the far side of the lake where the Willows grow. It was a perfect place; isolated and alone. But he wasn't the only one who went there, others had left their make long before he was born as others will long after this night…

And Voldermort smiled.

Hogwarts was light brightly, it always was. It was never a dark and gloomy place, by rule. And besides, it prevented students from slipping out at night for whatever struck their fancy. Yes, there had been a few like that during his time here…

And the lights made all the Aurors' on the ground stand out oh so nicely. It was simply too easy, too careless. Dumbledore never would have done anything like that.

And he just had to smile…

And stumbling behind him stopped just shot of his legs, as a Death Eater knelt down in the muddy ground.

"The Tunnel from Honeydukes' has been uncovered." The Death Eater reported with his face to the ground. "Bellatrix is ready."

_Yes, she would be. _Voldermort thought. They're all ready to go.

"Tell her to proceed to Hogwarts." He ordered in quiet tones. "Then signal when she is in position."

"Yes, Milord." And the Death Eater quickly scurried off.

In an hour, he figured, one simple hour, all that he so wanted and longed for would be in his hands…

He simply smiled…

2


	87. Chapter 87

Chapter Eighty-seven

As a child, Bellatrix Lestrange loved Honeydukes'. It was always a well looked forward treat at the end of each week in her childhood, the reward for her politely minding her manners and doing everything Her parents told her to do. And once a student at Hogwarts, it took no time at all, but help from older relatives, to find the secret passage to Honeydukes from the school. After that, and plenty of learned skill, she was able to make weekly runs there and back, defeating the anti-theft wards and charms with ease to carry off with as much as she dared carry back to the school.

That made her the choice to lead the first attack by the very ways she used as a student.

She was sure the secret way wasn't mined, blocked, or in somewhat shape, form, or fashion guarded. The tunnels were a long forgotten secret, the means of escaping in the ancient days when having the power meant death by fire. They were occasionally discovered by a student, and wisely kept to themselves. The Instructors didn't know about then, nor the House Heads or even the Headmaster's and Mistress' in the centuries since—or did, but didn't do anything about it.

And that, she thought, would be their downfall.

It took less time than she remembered to reach the stairs that led up to the statue of the Humpbacked Witch, but she remembered the old familiar stone steps and crept up them silently with the others behind her. In no time at all, Bellatrix was at The Door.

The urge was strong to simply open it, rushing inward through the halls of Hogwarts to the nearest window from which to give the signal that they had arrived. The Master wanted, demanded; that she be careful least she ruin _His_ finely laid plans. _He _had shown her mercy once; _He _wasn't about to a second time. It was enough to make her patient at this point, and patient she was going to be. The wall was thin here, the wood it was made from old—making it very easy to hear anything in the corridor beyond, and whatever was being spoken where they were.

She pressed her ear against the door and waited…

Silence, punctuated by eager breathing from those with her, where the only sounds herd.

She then turned to those with her, nodding rapidly as she reached to open the door…

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	88. Chapter 88

Chapter Eighty-eight.

Harry held no illusions about Draco, and that was that.

Yes, there was some sympathy towards his former tormentor. But in standing there

listening to the once proud Pure-Blood literally blabber everything he knew, and make up stuff that even Harry doubted as truthful, he came away with the since that all Draco was a person who desired all of the attention of the World-but was too weak and cowardly to gain it in any acceptable manner. And even more disgusting was how easily the Ministry Officials were impressed with what Draco was telling them.

Therefore, nothing really changed...anything at all.

All that Harry was left with was to wonder what sort of an excuse Draco was going to come up with concerning why he, for a time, was a Death Eater. Definitely no excuses concerning being under Voldermort's control, oh no-everything was simply too willing and too many people were about that witnessed his often bragging on 'How things Will be when Purebloods Rule", to even believe he was under another's control.

But would it really matter anyway? All Harry was seeing was a repeating of what occurred just after Voldermort's first fall; the former followers shunning their once Great Lord and eager officials eager to put this dark event behind them...

So, Harry reasoned, nothing changed...anything at all.

Up from the dungeons, he made his way along back to the Common Room alone. Not wanting to talk or even acknowledge anyone in his current state of torment made him a very sullen figure prowling the halls alone with his dark thoughts. As if any of the Aurors, patrolling the hall would. They always kept to themselves, smiling and nodding quietly unless they had to speak and that usually came out as short, salty and stucco. Fine, Harry had nothing to say to them anyway and they simply past by each other in the halls and that was all.

Nothing changed...Nothing really at all...

He was at the Fat Lady's Portrait, locked in that dark mood when it suddenly exploded open. And there was an absolutely vivid Hermione standing before him.

"Harry!" she screamed out. "They're here! THEY'RE HERE!"

Harry was simply dumbfounded…

And that's when the explosions occurred…[


	89. Chapter 89

Chapter Eighty-nine.

The explosion was a perfected affair, planned years in advance of that night.

Voldermort knew of all the places he would expect the stiffest resistance, Hogwarts would be that exact place. It was oblivious even to him during the first war that the school would be the last redoubt of a beleaguered enemy, as it was now.

So, it wasn't too difficult to attack the problem in a very timely manner with his agents well in place—especially when Snape had to flee.

A brief curse crossed his mind; _Malfoy_. That family cost him much, and nearly everything. Inexcusable as far as he was concerned.

More explosions on the campus grounds lit up the ancient castle and all those stumbling around beneath the flashes of spectacular multi-colored lights. Fireworks, an intriguing ideal created by McNair. Simple amusements that could quite easily startle and disorientate the unexpecting. And they certainly were, judging by how the Aurors were stumbling around with wands ill aimed and firing off spells.

Voldermort curled his lips in a serpentine grin at the stumblebums tumbling over themselves on the common. And even more so, at those rushing out of the Castle to see what was going on. That would lessen the strength of those inside, a tactical blunder of the extreme…

He turned to his left. There, Crabbe and Goyle awaited his commands.

"Proceed with the second disturbance." He coldly told them. "Do not fail."

He didn't need to add that. He knew he didn't need to add that. It just made him feel good to do so, and watching the thuggish wizards stumble off only reinforced that feeling of cheer growing inside of him.

Then he turned back to the Castle, and waited.

The Aurors tried herding the students back into their dorm rooms.

"It's for your safety that you stay in there and not in the Halls!" they'd yell. With all the noise, flashes, and all matter of spells going off outside, controlled panic seemed to be the order of the day.

The Advanced class knew better. This was why they were trained so specially, and what they were ready for. It's just that the Aurors though better.

"Will you get back inside! Don't make me jinx ya!" The ruddy faced senior Auror meant business with his wand leveled at Harry's face, and wasn't giving an inch nor taking any talk from the students he and the five others around him were trying to herd back into the Common Room.

"I'm warnin, ya!"

Harry thought quickly. His mates behind him were ready to stampede over him, and Hermione was quietly standing to his left. She could easily explode into action without any warning. And Harry knew what she could do was far worse that any of them combined.

It made it that easy for him.

"Alright! Alright!." He belligerently snapped back. "We'll go back."

He slowly turned, deliberately. Giving him enough time to wink to his closest friends, so they knew what was going on. And it came soon enough when the rough Auror impatiently shoved Harry towards the door with a "Git moo-"

Harry mule kicked him in the groin before pushing him into the other Aurors. They were too close and caught by surprise with the Class surged towards them in mass and soon they were bound and being dragged into the Common Room cursing something very fierce.

None of the Class cared. Even the younger ones who would have gasped at such foul language, they too were grimly set to the task that was before them.

"Alright!" Harry turned to them all after something brilliantly exploded outside. "We're under attack. Set out and locate where the enemy is—but do not try confronting them! Get back to the rest of us, and we'll hit them in mass…_Get going!"_

In addition, they did, scattering themselves to the halls and rooms with great haste.

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	90. Chapter 90

Chapter Eighty-nine.

For months, the Ministry's best plotters steadfastly believed, as they had been down through the centuries, that any assault against Hogwarts would be over land. The Anti-Apparation barriers were firmly in place, and could only be opened from with in the school grounds—and those spells were only known by the Head Auror, who when Voldermort's assault started, ordered his Leautennats simply; "The bulk of you head out to the grounds, the rest stand and fire from the first floor windows. We wont need any more than that to get us through this."

McGonagall saw things differently.

"Sir, "she firmly countered in her office, lit by the exploding fireworks outside, "I would keep people inside the—"

The Head Auror waved her concerns off, and had his own remove her from the Office with a deft wave of his hand. An act that left him the only person in the room.

And moments later, a bookcase against the north wall swong inwardly on hinges allowing Bellatrix Lestrange to enter. At the same time, the Poloyjuice Potion wore off revealing the ever ellagant Theodore Nott Sr standing, smiling, in his place.

"Close." He told her during the transofmation." But good fortune is with us."

"I'd never imagined you ever being so frumpy." Lestrange smiled back. At him.

"I knew Baxtar." Nott Sr easily replied. "And The master knew too. That's why I'm here. Now, we have work to do if The Master's will is to be triumphant!"

As they battled it out across the Commons, those defending Hogwarts were sure victory was at hand; the Death Eaters were putting up a weak offense and were slow to take advantage of the occasional slip of a Defender—not to mention jamming themselves up under the Whomping Willow in a solid bunch.

But it was all an diversion. With his agents already inside Hogwarts, Voldermort afforded himself the use of those he really didn't think a whole lot of. All they were good for was boaster his forces numbers, and their sacrafices would be remembered with a simple toast and crafted words that really held no substance no matter how emotionally they were used.

Anyway, it was a good use for fools. He wasn't loosing anything anyway.

Dumbledore, who knew him best, would have anticipated that very move. But he was gone…Dead.

He made the smile on his face grow even wider.

_Poppoppoppop…Blamblam…Poppop_

_What sort? _Voldermort puzzled at the sounds coming clearly over the fighting on the Commons. They were sounds not caused by any known magic he was aware of.

_Burrrrrrrpp!_

_KA-Blam!_

That one startled him. He knew what it was; one of his 'Teachers' at the Orphanage fancied himself a 'sportsman'—though how one can call shooting stupid birds from the sky 'sporting' was a mystery—with a Shotgun…

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	91. Chapter 91

Chapter Ninety-one.

McGonagall never liked guns. Guns were loud, brutal things often found in the hands of fools and tyrants—and those who she considered the real victims of war, the Soldiers sent out by those first two in their attempts to govern over others. Which is why instead of showing gratitude towards Dolly for overwhelming the Death Eaters poised to kill her with a pair of sawed-off's, she could not contain her revulsion. But then, she didn't speak her mind on the matter either—as it wasn't the time of place to do so.

They were fighting for their lives.

How the Death Eaters suddenly came into Hogwarts she didn't dwell too much upon, the answer was simple enough; they were caught flatfooted. Even the paintings on the walls were frozen like Muggle portraits in their frames. All they could do was stay where they were with expressions of surprise and shock upon their faces. The Aurors that were with her barely had time to react before being cut down, but there was one who managed to push her forcefully into a classroom before three green beams struck him down.

And that's how McGonagall was found, fighting off Death Eaters from two directions when the sounds of shotguns and the Angel of Wrath heralded the arrival of Madam Pomfrey with three Aurors in tow helping a staggering Doc along while Dolly whirled about with guns and magic ready.

"Come on!" urged Pomfrey, pulling on McGonagall's arm. "They haven't reached the Infirmary yet! But we can if we hurry!"

And hurry they did, fighting off small groups of Death Eaters with the advantage of surprise, or Doc's second Angel which was depleting him seriously with each casting, and sheer speed. When they arrived there, several Aurors had already barricaded themselves behind a chaotic mixture of tables, chairs, desks and what ever else could be used as a barrier. Several of them helped Doc inside to a stool with Dolly close behind, and there McGonagall loudly asked; "Has anyone seen Potter?"

"No…_And I never want to, ever!" _Sniveled Vernon Dursley, huddled miserably in a far corner with his wife and son. McGonagall hadn't noticed them there at first, and everybody else, including the injured they were helping into Doc's _Tardis_, ignored them.

"And if I did, I-"

The click made by the hammer of Doc's revolver being cocked back, mixed with the intensely bitter look from Pomfrey towards the Dursley's made him stop with mouth wide open-telling McGonagall all she needed to know.

"Thank you, Mr. Dursley." McGonagall lowly growled. Then in a lighter tone asked around her, "Has anyone tried the Portraits"

"They've been hit with a Blanket Spell. Madam." Dolly spoke up. "All of them through out the place. Very elaborate and layered…And no ghosts either."

_None? _The thought stunned McGonagall. Of all the most dependable allies, the Spirits' would always be there helping with messages and spying on enemies' movements. It was unthinkable they'd abandon Hogwarts so quickly…

The thought of _how _came to her just as an unearthly roar was herd outside.

_Antichrist. _Harry knew the distinctive sound of its massive engine. Sky was either still alive, or his creation was taking vengeance for its fallen master. Either way, it was causing a royal ruckus outside by scattering both Auror and Death Eater in its furious wake. Even running down many of the latter as they tried stopping it with every kind of magic they could muster.

Others watched the action below with fascination, and a few even commented upon it. But not Harry. He only gave it a quick glance before yelling at the rest, _"Alright! You have seen enough! Get moving!"_

His voice alone didn't do the task of getting people away from the windows, it was what was occurring in the outside hallway that did. Hermione, Ron and two others were out there, standing watch against any Death Eaters that may be heading their way—even if it was a given fact they would be. There was also the matter of unfreezing the portraits, but it sounded like the very wooden walls were ripping apart. A very unpleasant sound that went with the very unpleasant feelings all around, making many a hair stand on peoples heads. Harry though figured the worse, bursting through the Common Room's door with a wand in one hand and the .45 automatic ready in the other.

Hermione, Ron and the other two students were standing in a V-defensive formation in the hall's center, wands ready and substantial portions of wall before them shredded with Hermione's harms outstretched before her. It took a little bit longer to see why they were not using them. Before them, some twenty feet away amid settling dust, were the bodies of several Death Eaters with numerous portions of wall jutting out of their bodies in many fatal places.

Hermione looked quite pleased with herself, while Ron was simply stunned. The other two looked quite ready to be sick.

Then Ron noticed Harry, just as stunned as the rest.

"Oh…Hi Harry." He quietly said, as the sounds outside took on newer dimensions in both sound and intensity.

Harry slowly turned to speak with him, then Ginny cried out from the Common Room, "Harry! Come look! Help's arriving!"

It caught everyone's attention, most of all the attention of a dying Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry or the others didn't see her lying there fatally wounded like the rest of her companions. Since nobody who witnessed what Hermione did mentioned the fact that she was even there, she was just another wood perforated dead body lying on the floor. Or, if Harry didn't turn when he did with the others, he would have seen her stirring—raising her head to see where to aim her wand.

Stirring to focus her thoughts, to perform that special spell He taught her to perform if Harry Potter was ever encountered…

Its beam from her wand was a brilliant white, hitting its intended victim squarely in the back…

And Harry Potter vanishing in that brilliance was the very last sight of her life. 

4


	92. Chapter 92

Chapter Ninety-two.

Harry was more surprised than alarmed at suddenly being Apparated against his will to a place dark, landing in tall damp grass with an undignified fall. Once gathering his wits, he quickly realized he was deep in the Forbidden Forest. Just how so was questionable. Sounds of Battle were occurring in the distance, but the sky overhead lay hidden by a dense latticework of twisted tree branches…

However, there was no question as to _why_ he was suddenly here. Harry immediately went into a combative crouch, moving as instructed ever ready to dart and roll behind the nearest tree or clump of grass at the first sound or sign of trouble as he made his towards the sounds. _The protective wards have been defeated. _ That was simple enough to realize since he was suddenly out of there without much rhyme or reason.

Ducking behind a tree, and after taking a very quick look around at his surroundings, he tried to apparate himself back. Those inside the school didn't know the real danger they were facing now. Harry had to warn them.

He couldn't Apparate… He focused more, picturing the Gryffindor Common Room with vivid might. He uttered the spells under his breath, and in his mind…

Nothing.

Voldermort had done the impossible. Unless Harry stopped him, he was going to win.

It didn't matter that his clothes snagged and tore upon the very low hanging branches that felt like whips against his skin, Harry ran, as he never had before, through the entanglements, guided by the ever-increasing sound before him and fighting his way through whatever he stumbled against. He had to get back to Hogwarts. He had to stop Voldermort.

Nothing else mattered.

Then the thickness if the tress gave way to a clearing bathed in pure moonlight. He could see the tops of Hogwarts in flames to his distant right, and an areal battle of brooms and dragons near it. Harry paused only for the moment at the sight, then charged onward…

Only to halt at the sight of Voldermort and Snape standing expectant at the clearings' other end.

"Potter." Voldermort said, smiling.

_ Moody was hell-bent for leather, in every sense of the word. Growing increasingly agitated with Ministry officials who fervently insisted they had Voldermort when his 'Eye' told him they didn't. He was ready to bust out his wand and start killing them. Arthur and I knew things were up. We trusted that Eye. If Moody said it wasn't him that was slain messily by my Powerball Special, then it wasn't him—period._

_ Just try telling that to a bunch of Officials who had the body as proof that the Great Dark Lord was finally, and irreversibly, dead, gone, expired—and perforated in numerous portions of his body. So for the better part of an hour, all we did was argue, argue, argue._

_ Then, just as the photographers were about to take pictures of the skewered mortal remains, 'Voldermort' suddenly started turning into someone else. In addition, word was coming in from London; Hogwarts was under attack from Death Eaters. It was sketchy at best, but definite. That would mean Hogsmead was down, along with most of the surrounding area._

_ Then the Officials really started getting underfoot. And Moody just could contain himself any longer._

_ "Git the Hell out of my way!" he thundered, moving with speed that surprised me. Officials scattered like struck ten-pins in the wake of all that bulk. Moody and Arthur made a direct teleport, while I made for Tamm, who was outside where we left her but surrounded by several other vehicles. Not too much worry, she can fly and port giving me the chance to try contacting the others trapped there._

_ Just that I wasn't expecting to hit two dragons upon arrival. Tamm's all right. Sky made her nearly indestructible which can be slightly embarrassing at times, under certain circumstances. Suffering some scratches to her left front fender in the initial impacts. But Dragons don't like being smacked up side the head, they don't like it at all, and tend to lash out at the first 'thing' that could have caused it—which in this case was the Dragon next to them. That large firefight and plowing through a thick group of broom riders while escaping the firefight, convinced me to head to ground were things were a little less hectic._

_ Less because of all the bodies there. Less because Antichrist was tearing up a storm, distracting Death Eaters' spell fire and giving what few Aurors remaining an oblivious chance at survival…_

_ Fine by me. I let Tamm deploy all her weaponry, and helped._

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	93. Chapter 93

Ninety-three.

"Potter." Voldermort chastened. "You should know that no self-respecting Wizard carries, or would even go near, a Gun—_ever!_"

With a firm flick of his wand, he tore Harry's watch off his wrist nearly taking the wand with it. "Your Father would never have lowered himself to such things." Voldermort then sneered. "Disgraceful."

"Indeed." Snape agreed with an enjoyable smile.

Harry took quick stock of what he had; only his wand and pocketknife were available. The Watch, gone—possibly near Snape. It did not matter, as Harry quickly stood his ground.

"At least I had a Father!" he shouted directly at Voldermort. "One who cared and loved me!"

Voldermort's sneer became a glare. Snape just looked on with amusement.

"Why is Snape the only one of your followers here?" Harry went on. "Where are the rest of them at—dying perhaps?"

Taunting was a two-edged sword; they either made the target loose their self-control or they got you killed instantly. Harry knew the risk just as he knew whom he was facing in the glen. If this was it, then it was.

It nearly was. Voldermort instantly snapped off a green beam from his wand that just screamed past Harry's right ear. Deliberate miss or simply bad aim, Harry didn't reason it out and quickly responded with several Stun Spells at both Sorcerers, which they deflected with professional ease.

"Don't have the _Guts_, boy?" Voldermort wickedly laughed, launching several fireballs back at Harry. "Your Father put up a better fight than you!"

The Fireballs twisted and whizzed through the air like Snitches as they headed towards him, and were too many to shoot down especially with Voldermort lining up for his next shot. Harry kept himself in focused just like in the Danger Room, where all manner of what could be was thrown at him and he put that training to use by quickly Aspirating out of the way to a point just outside of the clearing. Only the Danger Room had 'safeties' to keep the students from harming themselves, not the real world. Landing with a bounce in there didn't jar, or hurt, as badly as landing on the forest floor with a hasty cushioning spell.

He rolled into the darkness, lying prone against the ground behind a tree for only a moment before quickly rolling left. Voldermort didn't disappoint. He launched a wide spray of fire where Harry had originally been, before sweeping the area in increasingly wider and aggressive sweeps.

"_Run you Coward!_" Voldermort screeched. "_I'll find your smoldering remains, and display them in triumph!"_

Harry darted from tree to tree just outside the clearing. Pausing for a place for a shot he hoped would take them by surprise, but Voldermort's Dragons Breath spell kept moving him around. The Dark Lord apparently didn't care that he was signaling his whereabouts with it. A good bit of the Forest was already on fire, the perfect beacon to locate him.

Much better than summoning help on his own, Harry thought with a grin.

Then he whisked through the Forest, landing before Voldermort's feet in an undignified heap. And The Dark Lord laughed.

"Well done, Severus. You are a credit to your blood!"

"Of course, Master." Snape purred with delight, smiling.

Harry's head cleared, he looked up at the sight of something he really didn't want seeing, Voldermort leering down at him.

"Enjoyed your little 'romp', Potter? Well, now you're going to wish the Dragon's Breath had caught you!"

Harry knew this was it. He showed no fear staring up into that face, or Snape's…Who was urgently mouthing _"Wandless Magic"_ with increasing urgency even as his Master aimed his wand. Harry couldn't wonder why…

"Tom…"

Voldermort jerked as if struck by lighting, and Snape shot him from behind. The form flew over Harry a short distance away to land in a tangled heap on the meadow's glen. Snape looked as grimly as ever, and relieved as well.

"A few moments." He lowly said.

"He has two left, Severus…Be careful."

Dumbledore came into being just behind Snape's left, a glowing figure as promenade as ever in robes, which Harry gaped in astonishment at, staring grimly at the figure of Voldermort. He started to speak, but Dumbledore raised a hand.

"Not yet, please Harry." He gently said.

Voldermort slowly moved in the grass, moaning as he rose with Head bent low almost to his chest.

"Now!" Dumbledore snapped. The second green beam hit Voldermort on his facing side, and once more, he was dead.

Snape relaxed.

"We have a minute." Dumbledore's spirit remarked, gazing at Voldermort lying there. "Maybe two—but its enough."

In addition, he turned to Harry. "Harry, you owe Professor Snape a debt of gratitude—especially for all the risks he took. A simple 'thank you' will suffice, because when Aveda Kedavra is used once more you wont be in too great of condition to do much of anything."

"Professor?"

"There's a bit of him in you, Harry. When he needs it, it's not going to be pleasant…So please, apologize now."

Harry turned to Snape, who wasn't paying any attention to him. _Why_, he wondered, glancing between turncoat and his victim, _why?_

Dumbledore gazed sadly upon Harry. "You are far better than to allow this hurt, this resentment, to continue. Professor Snape was only following my orders, from the very beginning…"

Harry gaped in astonishment. "But-"

"All part to insure that you never took your birthright lightly—or with bigoted pride as others would have." Dumbledore gently explained. "While Professor Snape may have been a little rougher on you than I'd liked, it was meant to make you more responsible…Far more, with your powers…Than him."

The Spirit's nod towards Voldermort's body drew Harry's attention back to the slowly sturing body lying in the grass.

"We are all the sum of our parents, you see." Dumbledore continued. "Or those who raise us. We reflect what they've taught us…The Good, and Bad…Upon the World. For Tom Riddle, it was those who 'cared' for him at the Orphanage—but I would surmise some of the older children there had a significant hand in shaping him, as close friends, bullies and absolute strangers only can."

The Spirit Dumbledore gazed sadly upon Voldermort. Sometimes his lips would move, but nothing not even words came out. Then with a sigh, he finally added; "It was _they_ who created what lies there before us."

Voldermort was rising with considerable struggle. His arms, his body shook as if he had weights strapped to his back. But rising he was, determined…

"He's stronger that I though." Dumbledore commented.

Harry turned back to Snape, who fired another killing curse without warning or hesitation.

And Harry's world spun wildly before fading away.

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	94. Chapter 94

Chapter Ninety-four.

_ "War", it has been said, "is Hell."_

_ Usually by someone who has never been in battle, sitting far removed from its real horrors, saying something just for the sake of saying something that may get them a place in History. I strongly suspect the same about this night will occur, since it usually does._

_ But they, sitting in their cozy chairs by the fire with fingers steeped in their laps and speaking in monotone to those who haven't the sense to know better, would not begin describing the aftermath of seeing so many bodies of so many ages lying dead in and around Hogwarts and Hogsmead. Or of how the Death Eaters simply poured out of every imaginable place in wave after wave of determined force upon the Defenders, and how they simply cast aside all manner of honorable behavior to beat them back—especially with what went on inside Hogwarts, where the most vicious fighting occurred._

_ Especially how to fight._

_ The Death Eaters fighting there must have felt they had it easy when confronted by gun-toting students. Spells long perfected against firearms have always come in handy for Mages everywhere, so what did they worry when they saw them pointed at them? They had the defensive spells ready mentally, along with everything else. What they didn't count on, for reasons I cannot fathom, is the fact such spells weren't so exclusively theirs or known by them alone. Any Mage worth their salt knows them, including me. They paid for that arrogance when the assumed lead bullets suddenly reacted violently with their barriers, or any other mechanism-freezing spell they attempted. It turned the interior of the school into a hell zone of blown apart hallways, offices and classrooms, some of which were on fire. _

_ That, and other dirties, was how the Advanced Class held its own; using everything they learned against the Death Eaters. Then, there was Hermione; unstoppably destructive, and unabashedly enjoying it._

_ Doc and others expert in the field explained that this was a direct result of Umbrage's overly forcefulness in applying the Imperious Curse upon her. They did all they could to rectify the damage, reconnecting and rerouting all that nerve tissue fried by magic and said that the rest depended on people and the environment. Well, I'm afraid we didn't do so hot with the first, even with her friends close, and completely failed on the second as events with necessity constantly interfered with any rehabilitation. But 'Hurricane Hermione' managed above all to single handedly wipe-out the majority of Death Eaters, at the cost of a quarter of Hogwarts interior, until Ron got up the courage to land a solid haymaker to her jaw. By that point, even her friends were becoming frightened of her—not to mention several Death Eaters who were groveling for mercy, saved by Ron's act._

_ By then The Death Eaters were played out, scattered and broken—and running away by whatever means they had…_

_ We had won._

_ However, in the midst of our celebrating, helping the injured, tending the Dead and looking for the Missing with dread, one fact became very clear; Harry was missing._

_ Ginny, all distraught and frantic, was very easy to miss and misunderstand during the fight. Now she was very impossible to ignore, as Harry was important to us all. If he was dead, at Voldermort's hand, then as far as anyone was concerned the victory was forfeit. _

_ And boy did they start looking in earnest—everywhere. Every room, or what there remained of them, every body, every blade of grass and rock was gone over with whatever Magic would work—not even noticing that the Forbidden Forest was on fire, or at least taking it seriously. _

"_Must 'av been one of those Dragons." Was the consensus, probably one I bashed upon arrival. But as time wore on, people became more and more curious and desperate to find Harry—especially George, who could not take his eyes off the fire. _

_Then, without warning, he leaped to Dancing Queen, fired her battered self up and started flying at once towards the flames before anyone could stop him._

"_What in blazes?" wondered his Father, as a few of us began really wondering ourselves._

"Was that necessary?"

Dumbledore slowly rose up from Harry still form, half-sighing with regret and necessity. "You wanted to vanish from us, Seamus. It would do no good for Harry to see you off." The ghost quietly said. "It would ruin everything you've planned, because he'd try looking for you.

"And we wouldn't want that, do we?" Dumbledore matter-of-factly added to Snape. "It is better this way."

There were things that bothered him, matters that demanded an argument. But in the light of the matter, and Dumbledore' Memory Charm, they all seemed ridiculous to even bring out.

"In deed." Snape nodded in agreement, looking down on Harry.

Still…

"Don't linger, Seamus. Leave now." Dumbledore politely urged. "If you're found—"

"Some things would be best left as they conveniently are." Snape ironically interrupted with a sad smile. "We wouldn't want that, do we?"

Dumbledore reluctantly smiled, gently shaking his head.

He was ready to go, ready to vanish from that portion of his life lived for so long—a world that he knew by heart. As the spell formed in his mind, there was reluctance to go. Perhaps, it could be possible to stay. Dumbledore could do all the talking, testifying that all Seamus Snape was really a well placed spy in the most dangerous position possible for one to be in. He would be heralded, knighted even and phrased beyond measure, for his bravery and skill…

But as he started to plead for that change, looking at Dumbledore's face made it all faultier and die.

No, he was right. It was vanity, the desire to prove to them all that 'Snivelious Snape" was not some pathetic wizard seeking power over and revenge against those who so hurt him. The very things that drove him, and others, to Voldermort's side—committing the unforgivable things he did.

This way was better.

"Well," he finally said as the tears started, "farewell."

Dumbledore nodded sadly, and Snape vanished.

In moments, something flashed overhead. The ghost did not look up to wonder, as he already knew what it was approaching.


	95. Chapter 95

Chapter

It was almost immediate that the news of Voldermort's capture spread throughout the Wizarding World, this was because so many didn't really believe it actually occurred—citing the news of The Dark Lord's first fall sixteen years earlier. Even the pictures taken immediately, showing a firmly trussed up and humiliated Voldermort across the front fender and hood of the Corvette, with George Weasley smiling proudly while standing on the drivers seat , were doubted as a very 'sick joke'. Gradually, with further reports of Death Eaters arrested and accounts of their activities correlating with reported events, the sick joke became an accepted fact.

Harry Potter defeated Lord Voldermort. And the celebrating began in real earnest.

Oh, yes, he was told, especially by George, that he had done it. Voldermort was defeated, and so firmly bound from head to foot it took several just to unbind him. The strain, they figured, must have made him pass out at well. A nice conclusion to the storm that consumed the majority of his life up to that point, and the relief was truly wonderful…Only; it bothered him that he couldn't remember the details. Something nagged him from the back of his mind. It was wrong, clearly wrong—but also murky and indefinable when he focused upon it.

"Oh, just say something." Fred advised him, sitting upright in his bed with a wry grin, because he now could. "Besides, they'll just rewrite what ever you say to make it more 'fascinating reading'. So don't worry about lying, Mate—but do say something."

Exactly what? he wondered. The straightforward beginnings he started out with grew into incredible stories that even he wouldn't believe. He could just simply tell the truth that he didn't—he couldn't recall what happened after…_what?_

But as Fred pointed out, it would be embellished anyway. That, with a resigned sigh, he could do little about and left it at that. The rest, _what did really happen_, that nagged him with such relentless persistence Harry finally could stand it no longer and sought out the one person who really could help him.

McGonagall wasn't in the Headmaster's Office as he hoped, but there was Dumbledore's ghost musing over the contraptions he once owned in his lifetime.

"Oh, hello Harry." The Ghost smiled while straightening up. "Now that I have time, I'm trying to figure out what some of these things did."

Harry stopped. 'You never have?" he puzzled.

"Only with some of them." Dumbledore motioned to one that was an ever-turning series of cogs and gears with in a spindly four-legged frame. 'Some of the givers had an apparent 'wicked' sense of humor that preyed on my appetite for mystery— which I now face with you."

"Me?" Harry was astonished.

"Yes. Are you going to tell me why you're here, or must I deduce what it is?"

Harry blinked, feeling awkward. "Well, I wanted to see Professor McGonagall…But she isn't here."

"You just wanted to se her?"

Harry almost said "Yes.", but stopped because he always spoke to Dumbledore when he was feeling just like he was now. So, he started.

'There's something wrong…with me." Harry started. "I cannot recall details of how 'I' captured Voldermort…Something's, there…But I cannot focus on it, and its driving me mad."

"A common reaction to exactly what you've been through, Harry." Dumbledore nodded surely to a surprised Harry.

"Me?"

"Yes." Dumbledore gestured, sweeping his hands before Harry. "You have lived, up until a week ago, you entire life in constant danger—hunted by the most evil Sorcerer of modern times, perhaps for all times. We can hope, but there maybe another like him in the future.

"But we're not here to speak about that." The Ghost added with a dismissive wave of his hands, before raising his right hand, with index finger upward, to make a point before continuing. "What we are here to speak about is that which bothers you greatly at this moment, which is the fact that you've never planned for a future.

"Perfectly natural." Dumbledore added matter-of-factly, "Considering circumstances. None of us fighting along side you wasted time spending time wondering what lay in the future, our concerns were upon a present that needed to be dealt with so there would be a future. Not just for us, Harry—but for everyone. Now, we, those living, have the opportunity to start thinking about the future. Any future.

"But you don't know what that even feels like. You have lived under doom for so long, a doom that recently no longer exists. Because of that being such a dominate matter in your mind, without a reason to _continue_ existing, as I may add, that it is afflicting your mind—because now there is no reason to be afraid."

Silence lasted for several minutes, as Harry didn't rightly know what to do. _I am causing this to myself?_ swirled around in his mind. Part of him was in denial, of course. It was just too silly to consider that he'd intentionally drive himself batty. There was just nothing crazier to consider.

"But if I captured Voldermort," Harry reasoned, "shouldn't I remember it?"

"To some degree." Dumbledore replied. "But, considering the sudden release of all that stress you were forced to live with for so long, the euphoria would have affected your mind."

Harry just stared at him, not knowing what to speak or even think.

"Harry, your mind is feeding on itself." Dumbledore gently spoke "Voldermort is no more, and it's trying to find something to replace it. That's why you feel as if there is something wrong, you are trying to create something from memory—_that is really nothing_. So, the best advice I can give you, would be to live your live…

"Because," he then smiled, "you finally can now."

Harry left the office shortly afterward, with his mind set on another track that Dumbledore hoped would carry him along for the rest of his days. He hadn't enough time to properly set the Memory Charm in Harry that night, the unexpected arrival of the Wesley's in the Corvette ruined numerous plans. Now though, the opportunity to correct the matter taken, Dumbledore paused to reflect upon loss and opportunity.

Far away to the South, in the bathroom mirror of a respectful hotel, Shamus Snape adjusted his dark business tie and gave his appearance one last bit of scrutiny. Time in the tanning booth had done away with the pale skin; just as the wash and trim at the salon did away with his long greasy black hair. It was still black, but much shorter and neatly styled, and with the addition of the business jacket and wire-frame glasses none of the Wizarding World would ever guess it was him—a Muggle named Sean Gregg, Chemical Engineer—especially if they tried a Disperse Illusion spell.

It would be a long time before he'd use magic again, if he had to. It was one of several concessions he placed upon himself, especially with the Ministry seeking him out.

Dumbledore was correct; it would have been simply unbelievable to reveal that he was not a Death Eater this time around, that it was all Dumbledore's plan to fight Voldermort's plans from with in the Death Eater's ranks. The killing of Dumbledore couldn't be helped as he himself was dying from the spell placed upon the Gaunt family ring that he tried destroying. They never took kindly to suicide in the Wizarding World, it was never spoken of and those who committed it were very much erased from the lives of who knew them. So killing him, as he lay helpless was the only option, and the means to dispelling any suspicions harbored against Snape by Voldermort, or any Death Eater, as to his loyalty to the cause.

It was all very nice and neat. All he could do now was to proceed onward, to the employment offer in South America and eventual obscurity. The last things he finished quickly in the living room; the wristwatch, assorted monies, pens, notepad, wallet and passport. The rest of his luggage was already downstairs with the Porters, all there was for him to carry was the brief case sitting upright on the coffee table before him. He grabbed its handle while on the way to the door, passing from one world to another.

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	96. Chapter 96

Author's Rant.

It is finished…It is done.

A lot of things happened along the way, like becoming Unemployed twice, no long playing Castle Marrach due to the level of corruption present (never simply rely on a Game Staff being trustworthy all the time, which is what happened in this case—especially with their friends) but now play Ironclaw which is every bit as Medieval—but with animals instead of humans. 'Furry' is the term to describe it.

However, I still have that Grand Am, and argue with its security system that will not allow the engine to fire up. I play on Second Life with another Marrach refugee, presently building a Medieval Castle of our own—when I'm not being a Headcracker (Guardian) at a Dance Club. And assist her with another Marrach refugee in creating another on-line game; Eternea, what Marrach could have been had it not been allowed to be mismanaged by those who eventually corrupted it.

And of all, I finally finished this. Actually, it was done while sitting in the San Carlos Room of the San Jose Marriot during Famine 2011 Con this previous May-as Steampunkers, Zombies and Doctor Who frolicked outside the room with numerous Anime characters on a particular stormy evening. Thankfully, nobody in the Panelist Room wiped out a Mackie Soundboard, or a projectionist in a Video Room push a wrong button and loose the feed to the projector—nor were there any Imperial Stormtroopers frisked for weapons by San Jose Police Department this year, but on the last day a Mac-Mini was stolen from a Video Room.

Yes, over-all while an interesting ideal, _Knights _is a complete mess. I have no excuse for this, and hope to make amends to the Potter fan base in the future by rewriting it better. However, it has been a crazy several years in the Real World, and I always pray for stability occurring soon enough to get my life back in order. In the meantime, Eternea calls, Ironclaw needs rebuilding due to the giant tidal wave that wrecked the city, there's a lot of neglected G.I Joe to be hammered out along with the rebuilding of Castle Alaron in Second Life while Castle Marrach crashed under its own corrupted weight…

And I hope my car passes Smog again this coming October…

Well, Life is an interesting ride…

Darren Brimhall

Fresno, California

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